


The Lost Mistress

by Sami714



Series: Aurelius Rising [2]
Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Jossverse
Genre: Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon, Dark, F/M, Intrigue, Long, Novel, Plotty, Sequel, Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-30
Updated: 2011-09-12
Packaged: 2017-10-17 09:33:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 15
Words: 73,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/175414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sami714/pseuds/Sami714
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Willow might be home but that doesn't mean she's out of danger. Sheila and Ira move the family to Los Angeles but trouble isn't far away. Its up to Angel and Wllow to clean up after the aftermath of Angelus' reign of terror as Aurelian intrigues threaten to ensnare them again. Sequel to Porphyria's Lover.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fresh Start

**Author's Note:**

> This story probably wouldn't make much sense or have the same punch without reading Porphyria's Lover. It is set three months after the events of Porphyria's Lover, roughly Becoming 1 & 2 in the storyline which has been dramatically altered from canon post-Innocence. The canon of Angel the series is changed as well by Angel leaving for LA a year earlier.

In the minutes before Willow woke, she knew she was dreaming. Unafraid, she walked down the dirty hidden stairway to the kitchen of Angel's mansion, passing Buffy and Xander as the two ate donuts and sat cross legged on the counter. Spike and Drusilla, in futuristic spacesuits, floated together on the ceiling. Giles and Jenny kept putting books and cables into a old fashioned cauldron on the electric stove. Franz stood with his hands behind his back, disconnected from the scene, but watching it all. Willow waved to them. Franz ignored her to trail a vampire in a red dress who raced through the kitchen to the outside. Willow watched them go before she followed into the garden and found herself in the nightgown that she had been kidnapped in. The vampire couple had disappeared and instead she faced Angel.

 

The vampire stood in front of an ivy-covered wall as the fall leaves swirled behind him. His face flickered from human to vampire. Blood dripped from his wrist.

 

Looking down at herself, she tugged at the collar of the gown and ripped it off. Under was an outfit that her mother had indeed gotten at Sears just as Cordelia had guessed so long ago in their freshman year. She shook her head, this wasn't hers anymore. It had never really been.

 

"We're all orphans in the end." Angel drew her attention. "I saw you already. Old costumes and new wigs don't mean anything to a vampire."

 

Willow opened her eyes to another day on the hellmouth as her clock radio played the Top 40 pop hits. Sunshine streamed through her balcony curtains. Rolling over, she flopped her arms out and calculated the hours until patrol tonight. Buffy wanted to see her telekinesis in slay mode. There was something to be said for the thrill of knowing that her actions would be saving lives. She was done being the damsel in distress and now she wanted to be a hero. Soon enough, grumbling, she got up and ready for school. She stepped down the stairs and towards door with a goodbye to her parents who sipped coffee and read the paper in the living room.

 

"Are you going out with that Buffy tonight?" Sheila Rosenberg set down her paper. Red hair pulled in a bun, her expression was serious and Willow felt like her mother would actually listen to her response. What a change from how this conversation would have gone on months ago.

 

Willow nodded with her hand on the door. "Yup, I'm going to be eating over and then I'm going to get into tutor mode and help Buffy with her math. The number is by the phone." She smiled, lying through her teeth just like she learned during her captivity, forcing herself not to bite her lip. Vampires weren't good for much, but they did make a girl learn a poker face.

 

"Have fun then, dear." Sheila picked up the paper again and asked from behind the newsprint, "What time is dinner at the Summers house?"

 

"'Round six. Its stir-fry night, I think." Willow waved again. "Well, bye then. Don't want to be late. And, hey look it's Xander." She exited and bounded down the steps to meet Xander. "Morning."

 

"Hey, friend-o-mine, we gotta beat feet before Warden Snyder gets us for tardiness again." Clad in a striped shirt and jeans, Xander put an arm around her shoulders and they walked to school while talking about Oz's next gig.

 

Willow felt that peculiar ooky feeling like someone was watching her. She looked back and saw a black SUV that she could have sworn that she had seen when they passed main street and then before on elm.

 

Xander tightened his hold on her. "What is it?"

 

The SUV turned off onto Stone street.

 

Willow smiled, covering up her nerves, and shook her head. "Nothing." Way to be paranoid of some soccer mom, Rosenberg, she thought. Hellmouths just made even the most mundane object that much more eerie, she guessed.

 

A red corvette rolled up to the curb with Queen C at the wheel, a latte in the cup holder and shiny new fake nails on her fingers. She pushed down her sunglasses and smiled. "You two are so pedestrian. Hop in."

 

When they got in, Xander in front and Willow in the back, Cordelia looked at Willow through the rear view mirror. "You should smile. I don't just let anyone in here. Took Harmony forever to make the cut."

 

Willow obeyed the cheerleader and made a cheesy grin.

 

"I'm thinking that we ought to head for the beach this weekend before all those surfer bums migrate back with their skanky pot and even skankier patchouli." Cordelia continued.

 

"We could go after Saturday defense class just when I'm at my manliest and most needing to soak in salt water." Xander replied.

 

Willow sneaked one peek behind them and saw nothing. She let herself relax. Cordy was right, summer was coming, and even evil seemed to take a vacation. Besides, even if it didn't, the scoobies were ready as ever for what was to come.

 

* * *

 

Willow swung her arms as she walked down the pebbled path, lined by saplings, in the first and longest used cemetery in Sunnydale. Buffy chatted and moseyed beside her. The moon and the solar path lamps provided dim illumination. Tombstones jutted from the ground in solemn rows beyond the trees. In the distance, the original frontier Sunnydale grave yard moldered under century old cottonwoods that swayed and drooped in the wind. Goosebump central, but Willow had gotten used to the town's veritable necropolis. Without the vampires around, it seemed peaceful draped in balmy night. That was the only weird part of the evening to Willow. The dinner bell had rung but none of the vampires were picking up their forks. They had been to four different cemeteries before this and found zip. Clear skies, fair weather, and there were even still people wandering around Main street the last they checked. Where were the demons?

 

Buffy crossed her arms, pouting, as she shook her head. "Did evil take a holiday? There isn't even any baby vamps rising up. How boring."

 

“Heard anything about the Mayor's latest dastardly deed this week?” Willow asked.

 

Buffy sighed. “Nope.”

 

"At least we're walking off all those egg-rolls." Willow shrugged when Buffy raised an eyebrow. "What? It's called a bright side." She said primly. "Besides, only one of us has super-metabolism."

 

"And, slaying is only second to Tae-Bo in burning calories." Buffy scanned the still quiet cemetery. "Well, sometimes it is."

 

Willow took a small leather pouch of crystal shards out of her jean pocket and pulled out an amethyst. "Pop quiz then. What'cha call this?"

 

Buffy took it and turned to look at it in the glow of the short lamp posts. "Amethy-dead guy, ten o'clock."

 

"What?" Willow asked before she saw the vampire charge at them. She stuffed the pouch back before pulling a stake out of her back pocket. "Holy cow. Is this one mine?"

 

"Correct, grasshopper, I'll supervise." Buffy stepped aside with her stake ready.

 

Willow remembered her defense class and moved herself into a more balanced position as the vampire got into arms reach. She kicked him between the legs, causing him to groan and hunch over, before pushing him back.

 

The vampire, dressing in a funeral suit, snarled in his awakened hunger even as he threw his arms back as he fell.

 

Staking him before he could react, Willow jerked the stake back out before stepping away. The dust drifted in the weak illumination, swirling in the gentle breeze, as a car alarm went off in the distance. It had been the first time she had killed a vampire on her own since Penn. Her grip tightened on the stake before her reverie was broken by Buffy's slow clap.

 

"Fantastic." Buffy smiled. "I'll make a slayer out of you yet."

 

"Really?" Willow asked.

 

Buffy opened her mouth to quip before her brow furrowed and she realized something. "I dropped your amethyst."

 

"I think we'll have to find it later. It looks like there another one popping up beyond those two trees in the old bone yard." Willow pointed with her hand still holding the stake.

 

"Time for the second lesson then. Now you can show me your witch-fu." Buffy gestured her forward with a quip. "I'll just do my usual fu."

 

The two girls ran between tombstones to the overgrown cemetery. When they slowed, approaching the old cottonwoods, it was obvious that something had disturbed the gnarled foliage beyond the small paths inside. Tall grasses were bent and broken around a patch of bare dirt. Two fists pushed out of the soil as a vampire struggled for unlife. Another stood still under a tree, hands on his chest as if he had been brushing the dirt off himself, his nostrils quivered as he stared at them.

 

“How nice, he brought a friend.” Willow said and grinned.

 

Buffy looked at Willow, returning the grin. “Lesson number two, double your slay, double your fun.”

 

* * *

 

Sheila Rosenberg had been fighting the urge to do this for weeks. Every time she read an obvious cover-up in the newspaper archives, she had to bite her tongue from going to Willow and demanding the truth. Every face in the obituaries, made her wonder and doubt. Every runaround that the police gave her made her believe more and more than there was something rotting at the heart of Sunnydale. Her daughter hadn't been the first victim and hadn't been the last. Awkward tension at dinner parties and odd comments by her neighbors seemed more and more like pieces to the puzzle. All she found after months of research was rumors and dark hints. Though, the town had been strange from the start.

 

When they had first moved from their small apartment in Los Angeles to Sunnydale, the welcome wagon had been a perky woman in an Easter themed vest who insisted they call her Pat. She carried a basket of cookies, coupons, a cross (Sheila and Ira raised their eyebrows over that), three tomatoes and curious a garlic wreath. Sheila was so perplexed by the garlic that she didn't even remember to speak up about their Jewishness and give the cross back.

 

Ira picked up the garlic. "This is unusual. Someone have a garlic patch around here?"

 

"Oh my, yes, there is a neighborhood garden club as well as a book club..."

 

Sheila hung the garlic in the kitchen which they both agreed was a pretty decent gift after their first dinner in their cardboard box filled house. It was much more pertinent to their interests than the cross. Hurricane lamps and candles illuminated the kitchen. They joked about how they had either they moved into a Italian neighborhood or there were vampires around. Willow, a toddler in overalls, sat beside her on the floor because they hadn't gotten the tables or chair out of the truck yet. It had been a good night. Sheila couldn't have guessed the pain that this town would cause her family in that golden moment.

 

Tonight was not a good one however. All those questions and fears drove her to follow her daughter around all of Sunnydale. Once the girls walked to the first cemetery and then the next and the next, Sheila felt a bit of the mystery that was Willow fall into place. The dark hair, the darker clothes, and now cemeteries?

 

Willow had become a goth.

 

Sheila knew that Willow knew much more than she let on but she didn't know how to get Willow to confide in her. Following Willow wasn't the best course of action, but it might just make Willow talk even if it was from anger. In either case, Sheila didn't know what to do. She could never tell her editor but Willow had parented herself for many years. Ever since Willow had come home, Sheila couldn't stop the sinking feeling that she was a fraud.

 

Sheila tried her best to sneak into the Old Town cemetery parking lot, after parking her car half a block down at the Unitarian church, and finding cover to hide behind.

 

Willow and Buffy were walking down a path with their backs to her. They talked and Willow pulled something out of her pocket to give to Buffy who examined it in the light.

 

Drugs? Sheila asked herself. That was when she saw the man sprinting at them. She began to call out when she saw Willow kick him in the groin and then jab him with something. Then Sheila must have hallucinated because she saw him disappear into a puff of grit. She staggered against a car and jumped when the alarm sounded. Racking her brain for way to make them not investigate, she made a high pitched cat yowl and immediately questioned her judgment even as she scurried to hide behind a Buick. She made sure not to press her back against the vehicle and waited until she heard their voices fade in the distance. Emerging from her hiding place, she walked over to where they had been standing by the low path lamp. Her eyes scanned the ground as she paced the spot before she saw it glint in the lamp's glow. She picked it up and examined it much like Buffy had before.

 

Amethyst.

 

Sheila put the shard in her pocket and slunk back to her car. Her baby had decided to empower herself through fantasy and superstition to cope with the kidnapping, Sheila had theorized before. Now, she wasn't sure what to think. What had she even seen and why was Willow even out here?

 

Could she even tell Ira about this?

 

* * *

 

Sheila didn't know what to say when she came home. Ira was in the living room, sitting on the couch, as he watched the television. He turned to look at her but what could she say? She said hello before rushing head long into a more mundane topic. "I've made up my mind, Ira. I think we have to tell her tonight. We have been talking and talking but we have to do something."

 

"What brings this on?" Ira asked. He turned away from the sitcom he was watching. "I thought we would tell her once school was over in a week?"

 

Sheila's mind raced to come up with an answer that didn't include tonight's events or any possible flights of fancy. "Well, I realized that she might want to talk about it to all her school friends and get used to the idea."

 

Ira nodded. "That is true."

 

The door opened and she could hear Willow trying to tiptoe into the house. She called out, "Willow, we need to talk."

 

Willow stepped into the living room with a frown. Sheila took Ira's hand as they sat on the couch together. “Your father and I have come to a decision.”

 

"What is it?" Willow asked, frowning, her expression grew blank and disconnected more like a blackjack dealer than a teenage girl.

 

Sheila took a deep breath before she said, "We're moving to Los Angeles."

 

* * *

 

Willow sat in the backseat leaning on the car window with her yearbook closed in her lap. It had only been a week since school ended but she still hadn't gotten tired of flipping through the pages occasionally. The scribbles of her classmates were longer this year probably because she was moving. Willow didn't know how she could explain some of those references to outsiders: Mass hallucinations, snakes in the meatloaf, gangs on PCP, Snyder. Sunnydale definitely was a place you had to experience to understand. Her face pressed up to the glass as she dozed, curled up, with her hands under her chin. It had been a boring drive through stop and go traffic since they had arrived in Los Angeles. She had finished her other book, The Subterraneans, before they had even gotten near the new neighborhood and the lull of the road made her drowsy. They had been driving through neighborhoods lined with small apartment buildings, corner stores, donut shops, and ranch style homes but Willow couldn't orient herself. Los Angeles was only two hours from Sunnydale but it might have been two worlds away. The hellmouth was on a small town that had little more than gullible citizens and two strip malls. Los Angeles sprawled over the landscape with buildings and billboards everywhere. Willow felt small in the city of millions.

 

Her parents couldn't stop talking about how this would be a fresh start. Her mom kept mentioning all the museums near by and her father thought she would have a better chance getting into a good college at her new high school. Her parents had gotten an apartment in an area in West Los Angeles off Fairfaz Avenue near one of her uncles where there was a nice Jewish community. Her father was happy about that and couldn't wait to check out her uncle's synagog. Her mother had gotten into a huge fight with Sunnydale's rabbi about the role of Israel in middle eastern affairs and she refused to go back. It had been a point of spiritual contention between them for years. LA would resolve it, they explained. Then her mother talked at length about some vegan diner that did take out that Willow managed to tune out. They couldn't stop listing off all the positives about Los Angeles in great and unnecessary detail (“There is a IKEA nearby! You like Swedish Meatballs, don't you?”) Willow didn't care about any of that, she just couldn't stop missing her friends.

 

She never really appreciated Sunnydale the town and now that she was gone, she couldn't help but longingly reflect on the movie theater and the ice cream shop. She even missed the greenery of the cemeteries in a cement city like Los Angeles. When Xander and Buffy had hosted a small farewell party at the library, Willow teared up in the beginning because despite it all, she would miss the place. The smelly books and Giles' confusion about his computer, it was all so familiar. What would Willow do without being able to walk five minutes to get to either of her best friends' houses? Willow had hugged them all tightly, even Cordelia, and made sure everyone knew her new phone number and her primary and backup email addresses. Buffy promised to call as much as she could and Xander said that they would let her in on all the most interesting evil. Cordelia volunteered to help her get her wardrobe ready for Los Angeles. It had been a good day even with Ms. Calendar's lecture about magical responsibility. They had all joked about getting out of that town but when she finally had, it just felt like an end of an era and not the beginning of a new one.

 

When the Rosenbergs pulled up to the new apartment building, Willow stepped out and looked around with a sigh. Would she ever belong here?

 

* * *


	2. City of Angels

Chapter 2

 

Three Months Earlier

 

Angel held the address on a note crumpled into his hand as he stepped up to the town house in the quiet upscale neighborhood. The tidy lawn, split by a walkway of decorative slabs, and pansies in the flower boxes were more vibrant in the pictures than in the fading twilight, but he knew that the townhouse gave all indications of normalcy. Well designed but not flashy, it would have been an excellent long term haunt especially with the demons who lived on either side of it. Angelus could have done much evil in this house.

 

A realtor from Wolfram & Hart stood at the entrance. An Asian man, in an impeccable suit, shook his hand and greeted him. "Hello, Mr. Angelus, I am Gavin Park and I'm here to show you your new home. On the behalf of the senior partners, I'd like to say that we're quite pleased to be working for you and we hope to continue serving your interests in the future."

 

"Thanks," Angel said shortly as he nodded to the house. "Is it opened up?"

 

"Yes, indeed, let me show you." Gavin Park rushed to open the door and gestured Angel inside. "The house has been renovated as per your instructions with all those requested adaptions. The room upstairs with the door that locked from the outside as well as in the attic.” Gavin led him farther into the living room, staged and presented with the best of rented minimalist furniture, as he talked. “There is a small balcony garden with the night blooming plants you requested. Also, the workers have finished installing the chains in the specified rooms. I almost forgot that the soundproofing, which was extensive, has been completed."

 

Angel closed his eyes as he remembered all of Angelus's plans for Los Angeles and this house. This was where he was to start his empire in earnest with Drusilla by his side and Willow under his thumb as he tutored her to be his next childe. The house was everything that Angelus appreciated with the high ceilings and limited exits as well as the luxurious design. The sparse show furniture only emphasized the subtle molding and tasteful paint colors on the walls. Angel frowned. The hand of Angelus was as evidence as if he had built the place himself with his bare hands.

 

"I have already mailed the blueprints and the contracts are ready to be signed." Gavin Park smiled as he pointed to his briefcase on the kitchen table.

 

Angel shook his head. "I don't believe that I'll be taking this house. Keep all the fees but transfer the rest back into my account. I've found other accommodations." It was a lie, but Angel turned heel and walked out to leave Gavin Park to gape at him. Angel couldn't stay in that house a moment longer and got into his new car and drove until he had only a quarter tank left. He pulled into a mini mart parking lot in the Valley and got out of his car at the pump when a man in a fedora and a stained coat came up to him.

 

"Hey, you Angel, mate?" The shorter man had the tones of Ireland in his voice and whiskey on his breath. He had the eyes of an honest man and the shaking hands of a gambler. Angel had known more than a few like him before. In many ways, he had been like that when he was human.

 

"Yeah, that would be me. Why?" Angel wasn't sure what this guy's game was. When he first saw him, he could have sworn the man was going to ask him if he wanted some scalped tickets or a TV that had fallen off a truck. Angel continued to the mini mart door to pay for some gas.

 

"I'm Doyle. I've been sent to help you." Doyle swayed as he opened the door for Angel.

 

"No offense, but you look more like you need help than I do." Angel steadied the other man before walking inside.

 

"Looks can be deceiving. There is more to this package than meets the eye." Doyle waited for Angel to finish the transaction before he continued again as the vampire went back to his car.

 

“Yeah, you're a demon.”

 

“I'm very much human on my mother's side. Doesn't mean I'm a bad guy. I'm on your team.” Doyle leaned on the car. “Let me tell you a bedtime story about a mean old vampire named Angel. He killed and butchered his way through the centuries before angry gypsies cursed him like they tend to do in fairy tales. Angel got a human soul again and he's mad with grief and regret.” He shook his hands. “Ugh, what have I done, he's freaked. Lets himself go for a couple of decades until along comes a girl to liven the story up. Star-crossed love with slayer makes him feel like a man and he turns back into a killer. Evil Angel steals a witch and finds himself cursed again by her friends and is given another chance to find redemption. He goes to the City of Angels to save those lost in the crowd and suffering in the darkness.”

 

Angel gave Doyle a long look as he pumped his gas. "Are you sure that you don't need the help?"

 

“Hey, I worked on that speech in the mirror, mate. I did it all arseways because you got here a year early and didn't even stay long enough at that fancy abode for me to talk you out of it. I had a whole tangent about the corrupting power of the finer things.” Doyle shrugged and scratched his neck while smiling a sheepish grin. "According to this flashy empath, I'm a conduit to the powers that be."

 

"Powers that be what?" Angel finished pumping and closed gas cap for his black convertible. Angel could smell the dog track on his clothes and alcohol on his breath yet he knew Angel's name and his life story. Seers were rare and came in all kinds of packages. Angel couldn't help but think of Drusilla.

 

"No clue, but I'm thinking they want me to help you fight evil and drinking doesn't make it go away." Doyle raised his hands as he hopped into the car as Angel leaned against the driver's side door."Might as while answer the call since the bleeding thing won't stop ringing. Well, actually, the visions are more of a flash..." He stopped. "Aren't you coming, mate?"

 

“Why are you here?” Angel asked again as he made himself hope that there was a purpose for him and got into the car.

 

“You're not the only one with something to atone for.” Doyle pulled out a piece of paper with a name and time. “I had a vision this morning about an girl who is going to die unless you save her.”

 

Angel took the card and scanned it before he asked, “Where should we start?”

 

“That's your gig, mate, I'm more like your cosmic answering machine. I just take the messages.” Doyle shrugged and put his hands in his pockets. “Do you mind giving me a lift though?” He gave directions.

 

“Fine. Tell me more about this vision.” Angel pulled out of the min-mart parking lot. The balmy night air wafted over him with the smell of humanity: blood, sweat, tears. Organic and ancient, urban decay settled in like the foundations of this modern metropolis where the sun set and stars rose. Whistler had told him once that another seer would come to him when the time was right. He had come to Los Angeles looking for a mission, but it seemed like one had found him.

 

* * *

 

Willow spread out her black velvet cloth with the silver pentagram already sewn into the fabric. It had been a gift from Ms. Calendar as a way to help her learn to set up a circle. Willow sighed as she smoothed out the corners and placed the black candles into position to call the four directions. The emailed witch lessons were fine but Willow missed Ms. Calendar's sense of humor and whimsy. The teacher combined the magical and technological and Willow couldn't respect her more. Except one thing nagged at Willow at night. Ms. Calendar didn't trust her.

 

She had once, Willow knew. But the night when they saved Oz, something changed. Willow guessed that Giles and Ms. Calendar had seen into her soul as she had seen into both theirs and Angel's with the soul sucking Chloriani demon as a conduit. What she had seen had scared her and Willow felt sure that it had scared Ms. Calendar more. After the ritual to destroy the sacrifice to Gurija the Avenger, Jenny had steered her away from the magic shop and had taken to heavy philosophical discussions about power and responsibility with the balance of nature. It was interesting and useful to know, but Willow couldn't help but think that the teacher purposefully tried to keep her from practical experiments. Though, that wasn't the right word, Willow examined the sage bundle in her hand with a frown. Willow still thought of magic as a tool in many ways which Ms. Calendar had strong feelings about. Scientists experimented, but magic was a sacred craft. It had taken weeks for Ms. Calendar to even let her float a pencil. She lit the candles.

 

Setting a metal bowl, consecrated and bought at the dollar store, in the center, Willow lit the incense and set it in there to burn then she relaxed her shoulders and closed her eyes. She focused on her bedroom in the new condo first. Imagining a blue sphere of energy, surrounding and protecting the room, she breathed deep and exhaled slowly. The bedroom furniture was bare, boxes unpacked, with only her bed made. She spread that energy down the hall to her parents' room and then the living room and the kitchen in similar stages of move-yness. Sweat beaded on her forehead as she felt a presence push back at her. Keeping cool, she furrowed her brow and continued to stretch the cleansing sphere out to the balcony and the stairs beyond the front door. The presence didn't dissipate. It seemed to grow. It seemed to want to hurt her. A chill whipped through the room and she opened her eyes as the candles sputtered out.

 

Her blanket threw itself at her.

 

Yelping, she tossed it off her, hoping the sage didn't singe it. Willow jumped up. Her heart raced as her eyes darted around. Her parents had gone to pick up take out and locked the door behind them. Willow should have been alone, but she wasn't.

 

The door creaked open and thumped closed as her dad called out to her. “Pizza, hot and fresh, come and get it.”

 

Willow frowned, scurrying to clean up her spell supplies, before she escaped the room. Willow wished that she could have Buffy here in a jiffy to make her feel brave or Xander to make jokes. Then they could have worked out a spell with Giles and Ms. Calendar. But, Willow just had herself right now. In some ways, she couldn't help but be surprised that a little bit of the hellmouth had followed them. It was almost a relief; monsters she could handle, 'fresh starts', not so much.

 

* * *

 

Lawson had been sitting in the same stool at the karaoke bar since nightfall. He kept laying the wrinkled bills on the counter and the bartender had kept giving him blood Bloody Marys, but there was much more judgment in the human's eyes as the hours ticked away and Lawson's criticizing comments about the singers got more bitter. He had worn out his welcome at four other bars and he appeared to be making record time on bar number five.

 

Lawson sagged on the counter as he sipped his drink from a neon bendy straw and thought about the emptiness gnawing within him. Since the beginning, he had felt a disconnect but his time in Sunnydale had made him think that he had discovered his zest for unlife. In meeting his sire again, he thought he had put the past abandonment and regrets behind him. He realized that he had done just fine without a sire, but all that vigor had drained from him after he had left Sunnydale. Like a beatnik suffering from heroin withdrawals, he just couldn't shake the feeling of numbed despair. Lawson hadn't understood how he had become so used to feeling more dead than alive until all those feelings came crashing down on him like a tidal wave. Drowning in more than just liquor, Lawson felt like he couldn't swim to the surface. He couldn't even raise himself up to find a answer and even showering felt like a burden. From the looks the other patrons gave him and the two empty stools on either side of him, it must have been more of a burden to those around him. Swirling thoughts made him dizzy so he laid his head on his crossed arms.

 

A light tap on his shoulder made him grumble, the second made him rumbled out a curse and the third made him lift his head and say, "I will rip your throat out." He turned his head and squinted to refocus. "What do you want, you Dutch fuck?"

 

Franz smiled, hands clasped in front of him, and tilted his chin up. "And, a good evening to you." The Dutchman scanned him without seeming to move his eyes. He was dressed to the nines in business attire including a stake in the inside suit pocket though a vampire Franz's age would only need his bare hands to take down any vampire less than a century in the grave. "I daresay, by the looks of it, it hasn't been a good evening in awhile."

 

"Its just gotten worse." Lawson rolled his eyes and gulped down the last of his bloody drink. "Now, state your business."

 

"You." Franz nodded to him. "The Order doesn't realize what an embarrassment that you've become. Living under a bridge, dining on hobos, growing fouler by the fortnight. Matilda and Sebastian have no idea and if you listen to me, they won't."

 

Lawson narrowed his gaze. "What's your angle?"

 

"What it has always been. My own." Franz crossed his arms. Cold and calculating, there wasn't a hint of an expression beyond a professional neutral.An agenda lurked behind his every movement, Lawson had no doubt, and there was no telling what kind of long or short game Franz could be playing. "I can get you cleaned up and sorted out."

 

"You can't fix whats wrong with me. Ever since Sunnydale... I keep draining yuppies on prozac and nothing happens. I've even been to a shaman. Got bumkiss in return."

 

"I know people who can help you." Franz's expression shifted to one seemingly lacking guile. "For a small fee, after you have accepted the Order's offer- Matilda and Sebastian's generous offer, of course."

 

"So, you're going to take me to a demon shrink, I'll talk about my father issues and before you know it, all be watching Doris Day movies and singing in the rain?" Lawson pulled out his crumpled billfold, intending to use his last dollars on straight hard booze.

 

"Close. I'll take you to Wolfram & Hart." Franz smiled as he pulled a fifty out of his pocket along with a business card. "Tell me know if you're interested."

 

Lawson slapped the bill on the table and ignored Franz walk away. He grumbled for another drink.

 

The barkeep amped up the judgment, pushing the business card away from the fifty with a pinkie, but accepted it anyway.

 

Lawson sneered and knew he wasn't tipping this one.

 

* * *

 

Three Months ago

 

Angel opened up the door to the second story business suite. The place had been haunted for years so the price was outrageously reasonable. All it had taken was the right chants and incense before the spirits where gone and the place was almost fit for humans or vampires. The door squeaked on its hinges as it opened to reveal a musty and dusty office that had a single desk and a trash can filled with a empty beer box inside. The electricity wasn't on, but he had no trouble seeing the bare room. In his mind, it was filled with potential. This was the place were he could start again as fresh as a vampire with two hundred plus years of baggage could.

 

Doyle stumbled in and pulled out a small flashlight on his key chain from his pocket. He turned it on. "So, this be your fortress of solitude?" He stepped farther into the room. “And, you gave up a mansion for this place?" Doyle asked, turning around to get the full 360 degree view of the place, his eyebrow raised.

 

“I had my reasons.... that had nothing to do with property value.” Angel crossed his arms and looked down before he shrugged. The place wasn't much but it wasn't tainted. It was a first step for him. A place where he could do good, atone, make amends in any small way that he could. It was cramped but it would do. “You haven't even seen the best part.”

 

“There is only up, I suppose after this anti-climax.” Doyle smiled before clapping his hand on Angel's shoulder. “Show me the place. Tell me your dream for it.”

 

Angel smiled. "This will be the lobby for clients." He pointed to the right wall. "I'll put a table with a coffeemaker over there and then a sofa and coffee table on the right. See, in between taking the cases that the powers," Angel tried to keep his disdain out of his voice, "send me, I want to be able to help where I can. Help the hopeless and those that just need a hand in the darkness."

 

"We ought to put that last line on the business card." Doyle pulled a flask from his pocket and took a swig. "Yeah, Angel, for a guy who wakes up to a steaming hot mug of blood, you're a decent person. I'll be happy to help. Not that I have much of a choice, but its a good gig for a loner hero like myself." Doyle shrugged. "Not that I'll be much of a help besides getting my visions, but hey, you never know, I might just be good at saving the damsels." He sneezed, his skin turned sickly green and blue spikes popped from his skin, and he winced. "Or not."

 

"You don't know what you're capable of, Doyle. You know my story, I should be a monster, but I'm not. Most of the time." Angel gestured him into the back. “First step is faith in yourself.”

 

Doyle took another gulp and snorted. "Whats the second step, coming to believe a power greater than ourselves can restore us to sanity?" He shook his head, flashlight stream shaking and showing wood floors, while he walked. "I've heard about the twelve steps, but never from a vampire."

 

"Its not just twelve steps, Doyle." Angel pointed out the room that would be his office before he directed them into the rickety old elevator. "But, you're never going to get anywhere until you start. Neither am I and that's why I'm here. Maybe that's why the powers put us together." Angel almost smiled as the elevator door closed. "This is my first step."

 

* * *

Willow's eyelids drooped even as she chewed her cereal and listened to the perky tv hosts on the morning show playing in the living room. Her attention was more focused on her green tea than anything else even the cravings. The tea seemed to take the edge off. She hadn't slept well that night. Nothing had happened but she couldn't shake the sensation of being watched. She had kept her closet light on and adjusted her blinds to let the glow of the city in. The sounds of the city were louder than she remembered so she laid in bed with her pillow over her ears and her eyes cracked open. Only late, did she fall asleep and not wake until the dawn. Her dad seemed to be a in a similar state as he cupped his coffee mug as if it was going to escape. His wire glasses slipped down his nose, but remained perched on the tip even as he yawned. They hadn't said much and the kitchen remained silent, as they breakfasted in their bathrobes, despite the sounds from the living room.

 

Her dad stood and placed his empty cereal bowl into the sink and reached for the coffeemaker in the counter space between the sink and the stove. His fingers hadn't touched the coffeepot handle when it jiggled.

 

Willow saw the coffeepot wobble on the base. A gentle scraping sound drifted to her ear. She titled her head to look at it before she saw it jerk. "Dad! Move left."

 

"What was that?," her dad asked as he dodged to the left and then jumped further back when he saw the pot soar. "What was that?" He asked again, just as bewildered as the first time.

 

The coffee pot shot towards the ground and crashed with a clatter before the hot coffee spilled all over the floor in a dark and bitter wave.

 

Willow raised her feet onto the first rung of the chair's legs to avoid the flow. She looked at the pot, mouthing gaping, and then at her dad.

 

"Did you see that?" Sheila asked, hand on her heart. Her eyes were wide as she looked at Willow.

 

"I had better go get a towel." Willow stood up and walked around the spilled coffee. She didn't even trust herself to look back. There was a ghost in this condo, clear and simple. Willow knew she'd have to ask Giles later that day when her mom drove her to Sunnydale. She had two questions to deal with now, how would her parents react to the supernatural in front of their faces and could she get rid of the ghost without them suspecting anything?


	3. The Burning

Chapter 3

 

Angel kept his eyes closed, his knees curled up to his chest, and tried to doze off as he felt himself roll with the bumps in the highway. Laying on his side, he tried to ignore the tight fit of the trunk. He hadn't bought his black convertible for the retractable roof. He had liked it for all the room, but he had never thought it would have come in handy like this. Usually, he would make his weekly trip to Sunnydale by night, in the driver's seat, to give the watcher his blood without any of the others around. Giles had made it clear that his toleration for vampires, souled or not, was coming to an end so Angel would stay long enough to bleed then hopped back onto the road with only the radio and his reflections to keep him company. It had seemed bleak before, but after this daylight jaunt in his trunk, he definitely missed the radio. All he had now was the stiffness in his knees, his regrets of the past, and his worries about the future.

 

Giles had been mum on the phone. He explained the addition to the usual ritual with a single statement about metaphysical magic that went over Angel's head before telling him when to arrive and that his 'physical presence was required for exactly two minutes.'

 

Angel hadn't been able to stop his cringe when Giles mentioned that Willow would be arriving from a therapy session with layers of warning and subtext in his tone. Angel knew that he must be the last person that Willow would want to see. The last they had met, she had forgiven him but he had known he hadn't deserved it.

 

That call had been five hours ago and over one of which had been in a trunk. His mind kept to a guilt ridden loop when it came to Willow Rosenberg. He had tried distracting himself with the copy of On The Road that she had been forced to leave at the mansion but with his mini flashlight in his teeth and t trying to twist into unnatural positions for his six foot frame, he couldn't focus on the words. He had read the book years ago when it had been a radical literary sensation in the fifties yet it felt like an invasion of Willow's privacy. This had been her mental escape from his demon's torment. Angel had put the book away in his jacket pocket where it rested against him as a reminder of what he owed her.

 

As the aura of hell washed over him, his demon slammed against its cage and Angel knew he had arrived in Sunnydale.

 

* * *

 

Willow kept crumpling up the tissue in her hand as she stared at the ground and away from Dr. Stevenson's face. She wished that she didn't have to go through this weekly struggle to mutter vague epiphanies when all she thought about was her real purpose for coming back to Sunnydale-- another treatment for the Lingering Kiss. The vampire-related fallout never seemed to end. It had gotten harder and harder to lie to the doctor. As time went on, the real secret behind her captivity seemed to beat against her lips and demand to be free. Dr. Stevenson's gentle and trustworthy demeanor did nothing but make her want to tell more but she couldn't. It would be a short trip to the mental ward once she said the word, 'vampire.' It was hard keeping it all bottled in because there were things that she couldn't say to Xander and didn't want to say to Buffy because she knew it would only hurt them. Then, of course, her parents couldn't know. Though, there was a part of her that felt like Dr. Stevenson could handle the truth. There was something about her questions that made Willow wonder about what the doctor may have observed in her tenure treating the traumatized on the hellmouth.

 

Dr. Stevenson put down her clipboard and cleared her throat. The African-American therapist had been trying to lead her down a line of questions about her escape but found her patient to be more introspective than usual. “Willow?”

 

“Oh, sorry, did I zone off?” Willow crossed her arms and hugged herself. These sessions brought up the issues she tried to pushed back. It made her mind go to a dark place of blue rooms where angels had fangs.

 

“Is that what it was?” Dr. Stevenson tilted her head. “Or is there something more you have to say? Something that you have been keeping?”

 

Willow bit her lip and looked away. All the secrets made her chest feel tight. Her mind screamed, 'Demons. I was kidnapped and tormented by vampires who were going to make me one of them and then kill my friends.' Her lip twinged in pain from her front teeth digging in. She watched her hands twist in her denim-clad lap.

 

“Your wounds have healed. But that doesn't mean the pain is gone.” Dr. Stevenson paused. “Willow, look at me.”

 

Willow raised her eyes up.

 

“You were kidnapped by vampires weren't you?” There was no trace of mockery or pretend in the doctor's voice. Clad in a tasteful cream suit and seated in front of framed diplomas on the wall, Dr. Stevenson was the picture of therapeutic professionalism as she held Willow's gaze yet there was only dead seriousness in her brown eyes. “Unfortunately, that isn't unusual in this town. I know you won't say it, but I believe you. I believe you and I won't tell a soul.”

 

Willow gasped, closing her eyes, as her hand covered her mouth. A single sob escaped her.

 

Dr. Stevenson continued with only sad compassion in her voice. “They kept you for blood. Virgin blood. Its why you were never sexually assaulted. Its why the police haven't found them. Its why your can't look me in the eye.”

 

The tears fell and Willow didn't stop them. It wasn't the complete truth but it was close enough. Her hands curled over her eyes while she rocked in her chair and cried all the tears she couldn't around her friends and family because she had to be strong for them. Deep and ugly sobs wracked her body. She cried and the doctor let her until the hour was done.

 

“You don't have to be alone in this,” Dr. Stevenson told her after shaking her hand and escorting her to the door.

 

* * *

 

Sheila picked at her salad as she tried to figure out how to approach the subject of Willow. The garden patio of the restaurant was quiet after the lunch rush yet it was still hard to get her words across. Usually, she and Yvette Stevenson had a free dialogue. She knew that it was against patient confidentiality but she only wanted a hint or a clue of what had happened to her daughter. Willow had been so distant and detached. When they were together, the atmosphere got downright chilly. All Sheila wanted to do was get close to her daughter again. She just had no idea where to begin. Shameful for a person who made their career on telling others how to raise their children.

 

“I know what you're thinking, Sheila, don't go there.” Yvette Stevenson didn't look up from her soup as she stirred with the spoon to cool it. The therapist's wooden-beaded headband reflected the sunlight. “Willow's treatment is her own business.”

 

Sheila tried to summon the energy to be offended and failed. “I should know that. I just want to have a clue what is going through her head. I used to know, I think, but now she is a mystery.”

 

Yvette shook her head, braids shaking, tone firm. She put her napkin on her lap. “All the answers you need are in this town.”

 

“I've gone through the newspaper. All those unexplained deaths. All the missing people. There definitely is something going on here.” Sheila narrowed her eyes. “What do you know, Yvette?”

 

“Its not about what I know, its about what Willow does.” Yvette took a sip of her water. “I didn't think you were ready before but you sound more open to the truth now.” She leaned over to her purse and pulled out a small flier.

 

Sheila took it with a frown. A cheap print-out, the black ink looked smudgy, and it had tiny print. She looked up at Yvette. “What is this?”

 

“A support group. Its for people who have seen the true face of this town.” Yvette Stevenson picked up her spoon again to taste her minestrone soup.

 

Sheila read it: Sunnydale Survivors. The group met in the recreation room of a local Unitarian church. “I don't understand.”

 

Yvette sighed and shook her head. “I still don't to this day. You know when we were at Stanford and we thought that we were delving into something radical, we didn't know the half of it. You'll find that the world is far more strange and terrifying than you could imagine.”

 

A flock of birds flew up suddenly off the roof, into the cloudless sky, their shadows falling over the two women. Sheila shivered as she thought of the shadows that were lying in wait on the fringes of her own life. Willow was brawling in cemeteries, coffee pots were hopping off the counter, and then there was the bloody stain on Sunnydale history. She looked down at the orange flier again.

 

The group met weekly.

 

* * *

 

Willow stepped into the library still feeling on edge from her session with Dr. Stevenson. It had been cathartic to have someone besides a Scooby know the truth, but it was emotional overload to combine that with what she thought of as her 'treatments.' Her cravings hadn't waned yet, she still dreamed of blood, but now she had been having more and more thoughts of being bitten.

 

Memories of Angelus' biting her repeated in her head. It was something she hadn't said to Giles. A part of her had wanted to drag Angel aside and force him to answer her questions, but he had made himself scarce after their heart-to-heart months ago. She had told him that she forgave him and encouraged him to become the hero that she had seen during the ritual against those soul sucking Chloriani demons. Angel had moved to LA but she hadn't heard yet what he was doing. Willow didn't think it was something she had said, but he had taken to leaving his blood, chilling in a mug, before she arrived. Maybe he thought that would be best for her. She had thought she'd seen him at the last feeding but that was only his back and then it had turned out to be a totally different guy. He had certainly made himself scarce.

 

Giles greeted her with a smile and a cup of the mageroyal mixture, which tasted like old school licorice candy and cabbage. The watcher had his shirt sleeves rolled up and wore slacks instead of tweed. It was the most casual she had ever seen him. Summertime Giles was far more laid back then regular Giles.

 

Ms. Calendar waved from the circle where she knelt and set up with crystals by the long table. She looked like her typically cool self in jeans and a peasant top with her hair pulled back. Asymmetrical silver jewelry shined at her ears and neck.

 

Xander or Buffy were no where to be seen.

 

Willow let out the breath she was holding and smiled. “Hey, Giles. Hey, Ms. Calendar.” She pushed a lock of hair behind her ear, trying not to twitch from anticipation, as she wished that these cravings would just go away. They called this period of her regimen, 'the Burning,' because the cravings grew more intense to tempt the person back to drinking. Giles had told her to be patient but the mageroyal had seemed to just leave an icky aftertaste as opposed to making her feel better.

 

“Willow, you aren't my student anymore, you can call me Jenny.” Jenny said as she sat back on her heels.

 

“Fine.” Willow waved, smiling wide as she said the teacher's name until she reached the last syllable and trepidation filled her voice when she saw him. “Jenny.”

 

Angel walked out of the stacks and nodded at the assembled group. His clothes were dark as ever, if a little more wrinkled, and his stoic expression was calm, but there was something different about the vampire. He didn't seem happy though it seemed as if he had a clarity and purpose in his eyes.

 

Willow's body honed in on his presence. A not so lovely side effect of the spell which made Xander call her a vampire detector. It made her more useful on patrol, but it made her skin tingle and the hunger rise. The dormant cravings that she had learned to live with surged up around even newbie vampires though the effect was weakest with the newly risen. They were the worst around Angel.

 

She licked her lips. Red and thick blood, she had been forcing herself to not think about it, but so close to having her fingers around the 'kiss the librarian' mug, she couldn't care. The guilt could come after when it was late at night and images of herself as a vampire haunted her sleep. She swung her arms up and clapped. “Well, this is a surprise, but lets get it over with.” She followed Giles into his office and felt Angel behind her. Tingles went up her arms as she began to jones for his blood in earnest.

 

Giles pulled the usual mug from the small shelf over his coffeepot.

 

Angel's neck drew Willow's gaze like it was spray painted neon. She tried to play it subtle, but she couldn't stop imagining sinking her teeth into him. Her hand went to his bite mark on her neck in reflex. She separated that one from the others that Angelus had made. It wasn't fair that he had bit her and she never got the pleasure, a traitorous voice said. Sanity broke through the craving when Angel met her gaze and she looked away.

 

Giles put the mug on the desk. "One might wonder why I have both of you here. Jenny has kept up the research and found that the rituals are more powerful with some of the effects of the vampire who caused the infection. That means we want a lock of your hair, Angel." He nodded to Willow. "The mageroyal."

 

"Oops." Willow reddened and gulped down the icky potion. She had been looking at Angel's neck and he had totally caught her. Grimacing from the potion, she forced herself to look ahead. Willow didn't like herself in these moments when she yearned to drink form the source. All she could think about was a dusty passage from a moldy tome about the uses of the Lingering Kiss. It was used both to bind a victim to a vampire and to get a potential childe acclimated to blood drinking. Angel no longer scared her, she scared herself. All the visions she had seen in the soul ritual had filled her with doubt about herself. There were other side effects of the spell that were positive; improved health, increased power, and it would be easy to give into that feeling. Rationalize it.

 

Giles handed Angel a pair of scissors from his pen cup. "A good sized lock, please." He held out his hand. “Then you must touch her. A momentary touch on hand will suffice. I'm sorry, Willow, that I didn't warn you about all of this but I had been hoping we wouldn't have to go to these length and pushed for another outcome until the last minute.”

 

“I can hear you, Rupert.” Jenny called from the main library chamber.

 

Angel took the scissors before cutting a few snips off the side of his head. Catching the hair, he put it into Giles' hand without comment then laid the scissors by the mug. He ran a hand through his hair and brushed his collar off.

 

Giles opened his mouth to speak just when Jenny called to him from the main room. "Rupert, where is that symbol chart I printed up for the revised spell?"

 

"Isn't it by the computer?" Giles leaned to look out through the open door to see Jenny.

 

"No, or I would have found it. Stop gawking at them and come out here with the hair so Willow can be done with it." Jenny had her hands on her hips as she knelt by the circle and a messy pile of yucca roots. A jar of sand laid by her foot. It would be used to mark an 'x' inside the circle.

 

Giles spoke volumes in a single look to Angel before he swept out of the room.

 

Willow tried to hold it together. She had heard Giles, something about a pat on the hand, but words were meaningless at the moment. Like an intense itch that you couldn't scratch, all Willow could think about was blood, cold, rich, flowing, deep, and breathtaking. Crushingwantingfiendingfeedinglonging. Fragments of memories stood out to her; the kohl around Drusilla's eyes, Angelus' mocking laugh, Spike's platinum hair, Penn's glasses; amid the call of the blood. She tried to act like it was normal but she hadn't forgotten a thing. The moments that slowed down were the ones of just after the whirlwind had passed. Willow and Angel lay among the ruins of their lives and her blood between them in a cage of blue. The moments when she felt herself dying and her heart giving way before the first disgusting taste of the blood hit her tongue. Angel had saved her life then, but in his eyes, he looked as if he had damned himself. The morning after the storm held more memories that she forced herself to suppress. Willow couldn't take it anymore and her hands shook as she grabbed the mug and held it out while her eyes were downcast. "Please."

 

"Of course." Angel took the mug and their fingers brushed for a split second.

 

She raised her eyes to his with a small intake of breath. Electricity and hunger ripped through her. Taking a deep breath, she had to make herself calm as Angel cut his wrist with a nail and let the cup fill halfway. The metallic scent filled the air. Willow stepped closer without thinking. Giles had told her to do a magical handshake or something, her sensible side raised a weak voice in protest. Hands reaching out, her fingertips ghosted over the wound. She met his gaze again, biting her lip, drowning in the scent of his blood and his dark eyes.

 

Angel seemed as frozen as she was. If they were in a comic, there would be guilt lines scribbled in around him. Maybe that was why he didn't stay, he didn't want to see her like this. He had begun to rebuild a new life around himself - she was just a constant reminder of his failures and what he had done wrong.

 

Red drops slowed their roll into the mug as his wound closed. She took the mug and set it down before touching his wrist. Once she fed from that wrist when they were alone and desperate in that small room with enemies on every side. It was mesmerizing how the red contrasted with his pale skin.

 

It must have been her touch that awoke him from his stupor because Angel shook his head and backed away. "Fight this, Willow, for your own sake. I'm so sorry."Angel pulled a book out of his pocket and put it on the desk. A business card peeped up from the pages like a bookmark. His expression ranged through conflicting emotions as he turned and left the room.

 

It was her book, On The Road, she had thought she had lost it forever in the mansion. That had been the only trace of her real life that Angelus had let her keep. Even the nightgown that she had worn when he kidnapped her had disappeared.

 

Willow pinched herself before she grabbed the mug and gulped down the blood. The craving and cramping ceased as she drained it down. She could think again which was both of the good and bad because the guilt had arrived early and it brought its friends, Messrs. Shame and Loathing. Angel had tried to be thoughtful and she could have gone for his jugular. Licking the blood off her lips, she set the mug down with a sigh and picked up the book to place it in her purse. Willow walked out into the main room where Giles and Jenny politely had turned their backs while they worked to make chalk symbols on the floor around the circle. She should have been used to it by now, but as she looked back, she almost wished she could lick the mug clean. Willow felt nausea rise up in her at her thoughts before she stepped into her place inside the elaborate circle. She hated being this way.

 

* * *

 

Jenny Calendar had walked out with Willow to wait while her mother came to pick her up. The campus was empty except for the few summer school students. Flowers blossomed in the sun along the concrete path while there wasn't a cloud in the sky. Squirrels scampered on the trees. It was the kind of day that made you forget what lingered underneath Sunnydale and reminded you why so many people got suckered into buying a ranch house here where the housing market could really be a terror. Literally.

 

 

“I asked Angel to come when you did the treatment this time.” Jenny sighed. “I'm sorry if I was out of line. I had hoped amplifying the spell would give you some relief. I kinda figured that you might have had questions for Angel.”

 

“I do but I couldn't think.” Willow shrugged and crossed her arms with a tight smile. This was the opposite of what she wanted to talk about.“Its always an emotional rollercoaster but I don't blame you.”

 

 

"How is it going in Los Angeles?" Jenny asked, she pushed her sunglasses up on to her head, changing the subject, concern on her pretty features.

 

 

Willow shrugged, grateful for a new topic. She still didn't know what to think of LA. There were so many donut shops and so many gyms then there was constant barrage of billboards and erratic traffic. It wasn't all bad. She had found a low-key magic shop close by and developed a love of these ingenious potato donuts. Her neighborhood synagogue had been full of nice enough people when her family went to a Friday night social. Willow wasn't itching to be a worshiping sort anytime soon, but speaking to normal people had been an novel experience. To think that a life without demons seemed as exotic as a foreign country to her. Sunnydale had all the usual teenage antics but the added demonic spice made for a whole different flavor to the drama stew. "Its not home, but in a lot of ways, I'm okay with that. I miss the gang though." She sat down on a bench by the visitor's parking lot.

 

"What about the cravings? Are the treatments helping yet?" Jenny sat down next to her.

 

 

"Maybe. I still feel them but I'm getting better at dealing with it." Willow looked down and sighed before glancing up. How she wished that the treatments would kick in. “Maybe.” It just didn't seem fair to complain when Giles and Jenny were working so hard on it especially during all the drama with the Mayor. "I just don't like feeling all grrr, but who would? Its expected weirdness."

 

 

Jenny frowned and nodded. "Not what you want to talk about, huh?"

 

 

Willow smiled. Over the months, it had felt like she had this conversation with everyone at least once a week. She knew that they all meant well but she was tired of giving the same answers over and over. "Its... I want it gone."

 

 

"Well, how about your homework?" Jenny asked. "The fire from ice trick? I hope you did it on a nonflammable surface."

 

 

"It worked and nothing unexpectedly burst into flame or kept to the status quo of cool and drippy." Willow joked with a smile. "I thought I wasn't your student."

 

 

"I'm your mentor. Its a different thing. Its a much cooler thing, trust me." Jenny smirked. "What about the book?"

 

 

"I'm almost done with Helgarth's Code for Mages. Its slow going but you were right about how much it has to teach about earthy balance." Willow looked up and saw her mom drive up. "Oh, that's my Mom. Thanks for everything that you've been doing. I'll email you later, Jenny. Bye!" Willow got into the car and greeted her mom.

 

 

"Who was that?" Her mom asked, eyes covered by sunglasses, hands on the wheel. A Styrofoam take-out container sat in the back seat. The smell of leftovers filled the sedan.

 

 

"It was my old computer science teacher." Willow smiled as she buckled in. There was hardly a note of awkwardness in her voice. She was getting better at this 'normal' thing. "How was that business lunch with your book agent?"

 

 

Her mom smiled back before quickly turning her eyes to the road. "It went just... fine. Did you get lunch?"

 

 

Willow nodded before looking away and fiddling with the radio. Boy, what a crazy answer she could give to such an innocent question. Willow cracked a small bemused smile at the supernatural absurdity of her existence. "Yup. How about we just go home?"

 

"Good plan." Her mother drove out of the parking lot.

 

Willow watched the school disappear in the rear-view mirror. After a lifetime in Hellsville, was normal even possible? She hoped that normal was overrated, because in her experience, life always got more weird.

 

 

* * *

 

Sheila Rosenberg thought she was dreaming and asleep, she didn't dream overly much but when she felt the hand on her face, she assumed it was one of her infrequent dreams. Then she rolled over and didn't wake. The bed shaking was harder to ignore. She felt herself jolt to semi-consciousness but she only tapped Ira's shin with her big toe and mumbled for him to stop. Then she felt a hand on her hair, strands straining painfully, and she was tugged to the cold hard wood floor. Yelping, she fell off the bed. That was something she couldn't blame on Ira.

 

 

Hearing a similar confused grumble from her husband, she stood and saw Ira be pulled by an unseen force up and off of the bed. She tried to run over to him but was pushed back against the wall. It felt as if someone had braced their forearm against her chest. "Ira!"

 

 

"Sheila?" Ira swayed as he stood, brown pajamas in sleepy disarray. "What's going on?"

 

 

The bed shifted and shook before pushing forward and then back against the wall with a crack. Pictures on the nightstand fell over as if swiped off in one movement. Then it stopped.

 

 

Sheila let out the breath she had been holding.

 

 

Willow burst into the room in her pajamas with a stick in her hand. "What happened in here?"

 

Sheila could move again and ran to her pale husband to take him in her arms. Something had pushed the furniture. Her mind didn't want to stray to ghosts, but it did. Then there was what happened in the Old Town cemetery... Willow and Yvette's cryptic secrets hinted at a darker picture of the world.. Sheila had never thought of superstition as more than flights of fancy at best, but now she felt herself drowning in belief.


	4. Poltergiest Blues

Willow had called Buffy but from the sounds of it, there was big bad brewing evil in Sunnydale. Made her feel silly to even ask about the ghosts, but Buffy had said she'd ask Giles. In the end, Willow had told Buffy to not even worry about it. There was no point in taking the slayer away from whatever the Mayor was cooking up to do a little ghost busting. She looked down at the business card that Angel had left in the book after she had gone all bloodthirsty and creepy on him in Sunnydale. It wasn't that she didn't trust Angel, but it was herself that brought on doubt.

A simple business card made of a cheap plain paper with an obvious typo, it read "Angel Investigations - Helling the Hopeless."

Willow sighed and thought, well, if there was anyone who was 'helling and hopeless' at the moment, it was you, Rosenberg. She picked the phone back up off the cradle and dialed the number.

"Angel Investigations - Hoping the Helpless." A man with a Irish accent said. "Er, I meant, Helping the hopeless. Are you hopeless, by any chance?"

"Maybe. I think. I have a ghost." Willow said, uncertain, wondering who this was. "Is Angel in? I better just talk to him. I'm Willow Rosenberg by the way."

The man on the phone whistled low. "Oh, wow, you're Willow. The Willow." Then the phone immediately went to a hold message where the same voice said, "Angel is busy fighting the good fight, but will get to you soon. His rates are reasonable and he works late. Real late." The message went off, but no one answered for a moment and she could hear Angel and the other guy whispering to each other. "I didn't mean to call her hopeless, boss."

"Hello, Willow," Angel said, "you have a ghost, you're saying?"

"It went Poltergeist all over my parents last night and Buffy can't help. I've tried a cleansing and it didn't work. The other rituals I've seen seem to need more than one person. I wouldn't have called unless it was of the weird." Willow didn't mean to babble but the way she had acted before had made her embarrassed. She had practically drooled. "Could you come tonight while my parents are still freaked and not in denial yet?"

"I understand. Its no problem. Just give me your address and I'll come over with my assistant, Doyle."

"Okay. Oh, I'm going to fib and tell my parents that you're a paranormal investigator. Just play along with that." Willow rattled off her address before adding, "Its just past Horowitz Pizza."

"I'll be there thirty minutes after sun set." Angel paused before saying, "Thank you for trusting me."

"Thank you, Angel." Willow said before hanging up. Now, it was the hard part - convincing her parents. Back in Sunnydale, it had been so easy to go behind their backs and do a little bit of witchcraft. It almost made her nostalgic. There had been something to say for benign neglect and its benefits to a teenage demon hunter's extracurricular activities.

000

The white walls, with the oversized watercolor landscapes set an exact a half feet apart, seemed to be looming over her as she went up against her father's disapproval. They had been going around in circles one too many times. Ira Rosenberg was beyond being a Scully about this. Willow really wished that she had found a way to lure them both out of the house so the cleansing could be done in peace. The trouble was that they seemed to make sure that one was always around with her in the house. She figured that they could go through the ritual quick as possible before her dad kicked Angel out. Though, there was a part of her that wanted them to get a taste of her world. What they had left her to face by herself in Sunnydale.

Ira crossed his arms and shook his head. He turned off the television as he stood up from the recliner, giving up the last pretense of normalcy. "No, I'm not approving this."

Willow sighed as she leaned back on the couch and tried to pitch her idea again with one eye on the clock. Angel should be here soon. "I wasn't the only one who saw the coffee pot move, dad. And you two were attacked in your bedroom. Are we just going to act like it never happened?" She used to joke with the other scoobies about how the people of Sunnydale needed to be smacked in the face by the supernatural, but now she was wondering if even that would work.

They had been in their apartment for only a week and already they already had three ghostly experiences. It had only gotten worse as they had unpacked and her cleansing had been as useful as water against spray paint. Her parents had been attacked and they still didn't want to face the truth. Her father had been vocal about opposing the idea of a paranormal investigator but her mother hadn't said much.

"Ira, maybe she is right. It couldn't hurt." Sheila said voice mild, staring intently at her daughter, wheels turning in her mind. She always stared at Willow with an expression that held a thousand questions.

"Also, I kinda told them to come tonight." Willow shifted in her seat, still unnerved by her mother's scrutiny, while she bit her lip. "Soonish than later."

"What?" Her father bellowed, his hands seemed to be yelling along as he gestured upward with a sigh.

"They should be here in a few minutes, actually." Willow shrugged, smile taut, out of patience. "I knew you guys would be like this so I just hired them. I'll pay for it."

Ira shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose under his glasses. "Willow, you can't just do that. Money isn't the point. Its-" He was interrupted by a knock on the door. "We'll talk about this later."

Sheila went to answer it. She smoothed down her casual white blouse before opening the door, revealing Angel, and a shorter man with dark hair and a old sports coat on, in the outside hallway.

They didn't look like professional anything.

Angel did his best impression of a smile. "Hello, I'm Angel and this is my associate Doyle. We're the paranormal investigators." He wore his usual black on black yet there was more ease to his speech then when he had lurked around monosyllabic after Buffy in the library . Los Angeles must have been good for him.

"Oh, brother." Ira crossed his arms and rolled his eyes.

"Come in. Excuse my husband the skeptic." Sheila smiled. Her turquoise bracelets clinked together as she gestured them inside. "I'm more intrigued by your line of work. My daughter believes we have a ghost, how do you deal with such a thing?"

Angel stepped inside. "Well, we first try to determine if it was something caused by faulty wiring, weather, anything mundane."

"Like rats." Doyle added, Irish accent marking him as the one that Willow had talked to on the phone. He had a bag over one shoulder and a EMF reader in his hand. "They can make a lot of noise in the walls and the kind of damage to your wiring that can make your wallet cry."

Angel shot him a look.

Doyle shrugged. "My father was an electrician."

"What do you do when you decide we have a 'ghost problem?'" Ira snorted and made air quotes.

"It depends on the case. Some spirits just need to be pushed to the light and some need to be banished usually." Angel looked to Doyle who stood staring at the Rosenbergs. "Sometimes it is just a misunderstanding. We make sure exactly what it is that we are dealing with before we make a decision."

"Maybe you should use the EMF in the kitchen," Willow said, pointing to the small gadget that Doyle held.

"Eh, this contraption?" Doyle turned it on and walked towards the kitchen. "The buddy I got it off of swears by it."

"Got it off a buddy?" Ira arched an eyebrow.

"Doyle, kitchen." Angel frowned, brow furrowed, before regaining his professional air. "I heard some of the story from Willow but I would like to hear about your experience in your bedroom. As I understand, you were tossed from your beds."

Sheila nodded. "I was dead asleep before I tumbled to the floor then I hear Ira fall. I tried to go towards him but something stopped me."

Willow followed Doyle to the kitchen while Angel talked to her parents. The EMF reader reacted once they got into the small kitchen. The white tiled counters and green cabinets seemed innocent enough but something lurked within.

"Not a good reading for the heart of the home." Doyle mumbled as he got a crumpled up piece of paper from his pocket and read it. "Yeah, not a good sign according to the directions either."

"You really did get that off a buddy," Willow said with a smile.

"Angel Investigations doesn't even have a microwave yet let alone fancy ghost finders." Doyle put the paper back into his pocket before swinging the EMF around in wide circles experimentally.

"Could I pay you with a microwave?" Willow joked.

The EMF reader went off the charts as the little light turned red when Doyle pointed it towards the hallway and the bedrooms. "I got something in the rooms." He yelled out to Angel before walking towards the hall.

Willow looked behind her and saw the spice rack shake on the counter. Rosemary and oregano rattled against each other. She poked Doyle in the shoulder and pointed to it. "That's not good."

Doyle walked over to Angel and whispered in his ear.

"Do you mind if we set up a cleansing right away? In one of the bedrooms?" Angel asked, eyes darting from Doyle to Sheila and Ira.

"Mine has more space." Willow nodded. "You can do it there."

"That would be fine." Sheila raised her glasses from the chain around her neck to her eyes, "I'd like to observe."

"No. I'm not comfortable with this." Ira puffed up his mustache as he crossed his arms.

"Ira, lets just do it while they are here." Sheila waved them on. "Willow, show them your room and I will be there in a moment."

Willow led Angel though the white-walled hallway past the master bedroom and the office to her room at the end. She had her room set up simply with little clutter and large bright pieces of fabric pinned on the white walls in warm colors. The wood floor had a single circular rug and Willow lifted it up to reveal a pentagram made with black electrical tape. "Will you need a circle?" She dropped the rug down.

Angel shook his head. "No, it shouldn't come to that."

Doyle raised his hand as he looked at the EMF reader go off with all its lights blinking red. "Could I stand in it?"

"Didn't you say you had an experience in here?" Angel asked, looking around, before taking the bag from Doyle and putting it on her desk. He pulled out a book from the bag.

"Yes, the first time that I experienced anything, I was alone in here trying to preform a routine cleansing on the apartment." Willow pointed to the bed. "The blanket was thrown on me but I left the room before anything else happened." She shivered as the room got colder. "I've never experienced anything like what I felt when I did the cleansing... it felt-"

"Like it was waiting for you?" Doyle nodded. "Sounds like a poltergeist to me."

"They feed on the energy of teenagers and a magical one would draw it in." Angel's gaze drew away from hers. While to the average layman, he would appear to be solemn-looking man, there seemed to be less of a hunch to his shoulder's in Los Angeles. He didn't seem comfortable with her but he was practically Joe Sociable for him. She wondered how long that his agency had been open.

"Did I miss anything?" Her mom asked when she walked in.

Doyle shook his head. "No, ma'am, we're still assessing the situation."

A book slid out of its place on a bookshelf to fly to the floor.

"We've decided that we should begin." Angel pulled a lighter out of his pocket while Doyle set the reader on Willow's desk and started to pull out magical supplies.

Willow could recognize the bile and sage but her mother drew her attention away from the men. She began to feel tense as the men started to work. They had already agreed that she wouldn't participate given that her parents didn't know how much of a Nancy Drew of the weird that she had grown into. She found herself doing better at civilian act as a cold feeling washed over her like waves lapping against an iceberg. Her spine froze up as the emotions seemed to build in her throat.

It was here.

Her mother turned pale and she said, "Willow, maybe you should leave."

"Mom, I can handle this." Willow put her hand up. Fear suddenly gone in the rush of annoyance. The patronizing tones in her mother's absentminded professor voice was too much for Willow to brush off. Out of the two of them, only Willow had gone into battle with the slayer. Her mother had been out of town for the apocalypses.

"Can't you listen to me for once and just let me protect you?" She crossed her arms, doing her best impression of a parent, as she pleaded.

Willow felt like she couldn't stop the words that came out of her mouth next. "Oh, like you've done a bang up job with that." It was the truth, but it felt like ashes on her tongue. The real truth was that her parents couldn't save her from the demonic dangers in the world.

The fabric on the walls began to wave and her pencil cup shook on her desk. Tension increased, as if alive and thriving, in the room.

Angel and Doyle traded glances but tried to ignore the women as they performed their tasks.

Doyle mixed together the ingredients while he sat on the ground, shredding sage and pouring sulfur into a bowl before topping it with dried bile and setting it aflame with Angel's lighter.

Angel held a old leather book in his hand and chanted in Latin.

The energy in the room seemed to crackle as the papers on Willow's desk swept onto the floor and her pencil cup fell over.

Her mother looked like she had been slapped. "Now that isn't fair, Willow. You should know that I would have given my life to have stopped you from being harmed."

"But, you weren't there that night or the night before or even for that whole month!" Willow shook her head, headache growing in the center of her forehead, and she could barely hear Angel's chanting over the sound of her own pain. "I didn't want you to be there because you would have been killed. I wanted you to be around for my science fairs and when I had a crush on a boy and wanted advice about it or when someone bullied me. I just wanted someone there at dinner time so I wasn't eating alone."

The papers and pencils flew up in the air along with the paperbacks on Willow's shelf to circle the group. Fabric flapped as if in a windstorm on the walls yet there wasn't a single breeze in the room. The furniture shook.

"This is getting dicey, Angel." Doyle said as he huddled over the burning herbs to prevent the flames from sputtering out.

Angel shrugged, his chant unbroken, as he turned another page.

"You're right." Her mother began to cry which Willow had never seen before. Mascara dripped and her face turned blotchy. A book hit her side but she didn't even flinch. "I never hated myself more than when you were gone. I woke up crying every day and I beat myself up every night, but I can't change the past. No matter how much I want to."

"Then change the future!" Willow threw her hands up. "Stop acting like we're a happy family that plays boardgames. We have all these issues and you guys act like I'm the way I am only because I was kidnapped. I was hurting way before I was abducted."

"I'm sorry, baby." Sheila's voice was ragged from her sobs.

"Sorry? Why? Because Katie Couric called you out on your parenting and your book fell from the best seller's list? You guys act like moving will make everything better." Willow fell to her knees and cried. "It doesn't feel like a new start, just a new set of lies."

The fabric on the walls flapped harder in the spectral wind.

Her mother followed her to the ground. "We moved because we wanted to protect you. Willow, I love you more than anyone or any thing in this world. I'm so sorry that you were harmed and if I could take it back, take in all that pain that you are feeling, then I would. I would a thousand times over. You must know that I love you."

Angel kept chanting as Doyle, using his coat as a wind block, kept the herbs lit .

Willow shrugged her off, trying to will the feeling of dread out of her chest.

"I should have been there and listened." Her mother pulled her into a hug. " I love you. I love you."

Willow gave into the hug and buried her eyes in her mother's shoulder. "I just wanted to feel that."

Ira burst into the door. "What are you doing in here?"

All the debris in the air dropped with thuds and crashes.

Ira's eyes grew round as he took in the chaotic scene. He took a step back.

000

His shoulders relaxed a jot as Angel felt the spirit retreat and watched the knickknacks fall to the floor. The banishment had worked but he knew that Willow and her mom were the real reason the spirit fled. After they broke down that emotional wall, the poltergeist couldn't feed off Willow's energy any longer. He and Doyle mostly just kicked it out the door. Angel didn't let himself rest, he looked to back from Willow to Ira Rosenberg.

Willow pulled away from her mother as her father captured the room's attention with his questions.

"Veritas." Angel said the final word and closed the book. Was this another successful case for Angel Investigations? Or would he get chased out by an irate father? "Nothing anymore."

Ira strode to Doyle. A vein bulged in his forehead. "Are you people doing a spell in here?"

Sheila shook her head, pulling on her glasses, as she stepped to her husband. "Ira, don't you berate them."

Doyle stumbled over his words as Ira and Sheila began to argue with him and each other. The Rosenbergs both had steely eyes and shared snapping words while Doyle looked helpless between them.

Angel didn't know how to extract his associate or if he even wanted to get in the middle of that one. Looking the Rosenbergs in the eyes before had been difficult when he had been distracted by the threat of a poltergeist, now, he didn't know how to look at them without all the guilt and shame showing through his gaze. When he had been invited it, it took all his willpower not to make his apologizes for what he had done to their only child and to their family. He only felt relief when Willow drew his attention.

Willow wiped her eyes before motioning to Angel for a private word with a shaking hand.

He nodded before walking from the room and leaving poor Doyle, who watched them in horror, to talk to her parents.

She led him to the balcony and opened the door before stepping out into the warm night air.

Angel couldn't help but notice the goosebumps still lingering on her skin. The adrenaline still made her heart race, he could hear, but she tried to stay calm. One of the few virtues he had forced on Willow had been the art of composure. Before he had kidnapped her, every emotion had lit onto her face as soon as she felt it. Now, the unobservant would hardly have known that she had just battled a poltergeist and engaged in a screaming match with her mother. Only her windswept hair showed any hint of the banishing.

"That was intense." She made a nervous giggle. "Do you think its gone?"

Angel leaned on the railing. "I believe so, but you'll have to try that cleansing again to be sure." He looked at her with his best inscrutable expression, hoping he wouldn't offend her. "Have you thought that it might have been fueled by you and your anger with your mother?"

"Loaded question." Willow nodded, gazing ahead, as she took a deep breath. "You may be right. Poltergeists do love the kind of vibes that I was giving off. I figured it was something that I had brought with me. Or my luck." She shrugged, trying to sound jovial, uneasy curve to her lips.

Angel looked down and he wished he had said something else. He should have said that less accusatory, of course there was tension in the Rosenberg house, Angel had been the catalyst. It had been harder than expected to act normal around the people who he had terrorized. Sheila and Ira didn't know it but he had been the one to uncover all the grim emotions in their household. Shattering their illusions. He hoped they didn't try to pay him to clean up his own mistakes.

She sighed looking out onto the gardened courtyard of the small apartment complex. "Thank you, by the way, for your help. Its good to know that there is someone in this city that I can call when weirdness ensues."

"You know you're always welcome to my help." Angel nodded. That was the least he could do for her.

'Oh, and Angel, I just want to say I'm sorry about what happened in the library." Willow looked down. "I shouldn't have lost-"

"Don't apologize." Angel wanted to cringe. All he could think about on the drive in the trunk after was what he had done to her. She tried to keep it under control but he could see the craving in her eyes before they had walked into Giles' office. It haunted him, that look in her eye, in the darkness of the trunk. It then drove him to pick up his charcoal pencil when he got back to the office only to fling it away in disgust at himself. "None of that was your fault."

"But-."

"No." Angel locked eyes with her. "I won't hear you say sorry for what I did to you."

The balcony door opened behind them and Ira said, "Willow, get inside."

Willow sighed and walked in with a apologetic look on her face. "Dad..."

"No, I don't care what kind of show that they put on for you two, but I refuse to have some stranger come into my home and feed my child fairy tales." Ira crossed his arms. His face was mottled by anger.

Willow walked over to her mother and gave her a hug. "I'm sorry."

Angel's awkwardness ricocheted up as he took in the domestic scene.

"Don't be." Her mother said while stroking her hair.

"I'm going to have to ask you two to leave." Ira blustered under his mustache and crossed his arms.

"I'll send the check to your office." Sheila wrapped an arm around Willow's shoulders and smiled. "I apologize for my husband. Thank you for your time, Mr. Angel, Mr. Doyle."

"You're welcome." Angel nodded. He walked to the door with Doyle who lugged the supply bag.

"Yeah, it was... something." Doyle nodded, eyes darting from Ira and Sheila as if he expected them to start yelling again, before a sour look came onto his face when he turned to Angel.

Willow broke away from her mother to escort them to the door. "Thanks again." She smiled at Angel as she shyly brushed a lock of dark hair behind her ear. .

"Anytime, Willow."

"Well, at least those charlatans got you two to make up." Ira shook his head before locking the balcony. "I'm heading to bed. Maybe you ghost busters should do the same."

Willow and her mother rolled their eyes. "Good night, guys." Willow closed the door with one last smile.

Doyle glared at him. "Thanks for sticking me with her folks, mate." He shrugged the bag higher on his shoulder before grumbling. "Next time we fight a snot demon, I'll step back and let the big hero handle it."

Angel laughed. He'd take a snot demon over Ira and Sheila Rosenberg any day. "Fair enough, Doyle."

000

Lawson tapped his fingers against the conference table as he gave Pieterzoon the side-eye. Corporate tasteful, the meeting room felt sterile and dead as the non-controversial abstracts that hung on the walls. The necro-treated glass was the best feature. He hadn't seen the daytime world in decades; it was a shame his first glimpse had to be Los Angeles. He liked it well enough back in '41 during his Christmas honeymoon before he shipped out to fight in the Battle of the Atlantic, but what an eye sore of a city it had become.

Of all the places that Lawson wanted to be in the world, Los Angeles was at the end of the list. It made sense then that he hit rock bottom there. Lawson knew he should have taken his existential crisis to a cabin in the wilderness where he could pick off hikers and been out of the range of the vampiric grapevine. Despite his good sense screaming at him, he couldn't care if some piss-ant still stinking of formaldehyde ran off and gabbed to his buddies about the crazy vamp at the bar. His reputation had been something he used to protect and maintain with the hungry only a maker-less vampire could have. Now, he could barely summon the will to care about their reindeer games. It made him seem weak in the eyes of Pieterzoon.

Lawson had started out with nothing and no one and it had taken him decades to gain a measure of respect and power. It had drove him for so long, but that spark, dim and cold, was gone. Maybe it was because he had seen into what he had been missing without a sire. If he were honest then he'd admit that he'd been listless in Toronto, bored in Detroit before that, and always restless since he emerged undead from the sea. In any case, only the hope of reigniting that fire kept him in his seat. Lawson hoped that this law firm would have the right answers or else he would light his own flames starting with Pieterzoon using lighter fluid and a ragged matchbook.

Pieterzoon seemed more like a statue than flesh in his chair next to Lawson. He gave no indication that he noticed the other vampire's impatience. More mum than usual, Pieterzoon hadn't said more than a few sentences since he can met Lawson in the lobby.

Lilah Morgan opened the door with a black folder in her hand. She had a half smile on her face. "The test results are in, Mr. Lawson. We have interesting news." She walked to the table and set the folder down in front of him before taking a seat. "All vampires have their own quirks, but I've never seen one so extreme." Locking her fingers, she met Lawson's gaze. "Your sensitivity to your sire is beyond the normal ability to sense his presence and broader emotions. You're intuitively connected to his moods and with his soul in place, it means that you're going to be as depressed as he is."

"What about the curse? Is it true that he has been re-ensouled?" Pieterzoon kept his hands on the table but they lay with a rattlesnake's casualness.

Lilah nodded and shrugged as if there was no accounting for taste. "He's gotten back into the demon killing business as well. Except now he does his heroics for a fee."

Lawson rubbed his temples and growled. He should have known. His sire had used him to save a submarine and had left him dead inside and out. Angel made him just as much of a freak as himself in another imaginative display of cosmic irony. "So, if I kill him will it stop?"

"Wolfram & Hart's official policy on Angel is that he can't be killed so I'm unable to advise that course of action. There is also the possibility that due to your sensitivity staking your sire will only worsen your condition." She tilted her head and kept eye contact, but it still felt like an act.

"Horseshit. You just want to keep Angel safe." Lawson stated. At least he hoped so. Though, with his luck, the broad was probably right.

Lilah shrugged, a red smile tugging at her lips, teasing glimpses of her jugular were revealed under the high collar of her black blouse in the dismissive move. "The Senior Partners are aware of your possible position in the Order of Aurelius which has a long history with our firm. If you decline to kill Angel, we can offer our support in your bid to power and in removing the curse from Angel."

"So, I should help you release Angelus is what you're saying. Don't try to play me, little girl. I don't know what you want Angelus for but its clear that you do. I'm a step to that." Lawson crossed his arms and scratched at the stubble on his chin. "I doubt that all you need is my mercy in exchange for this sweet deal. What do you want? Someone to distract him while you scheme your schemes? Someone to warm the seat on the Order's council until Angelus is back at the wheel?"

"Our plans for Angelus are far beyond the Order, they're apocalyptic and that is all I'm allowed to know." Lilah opened up the black folder again and separated the test results from a picture of a picturesque old Hollywood townhouse with a rock slab walkway. It had a post-it note stuck to it with the address. "If you agree to spare Angel and become a client, you can look forward to being settled into this house with every convenience that a vampire of your stature needs. You can start over again with a haunt that even Matilda would approve of."

Lawson snorted before pulling the picture towards him. "Does this place come with vampire-proof chains?"

Lilah nodded. "As well as soundproofing and discrete demonic neighbors on either side."

"Throw in a car and I guess we have a deal." He put out his hand and Lilah shook it. "I'll move in today."

"I'll have it arranged." Lilah smiled, poured a cup of blood from a carafe, and set it before him. "Go down to the garage and pick one out."

Lawson took it, stood up, and chugged it before dropping the cup on the floor. "Pieterzoon, Morgan, always a pleasure." He walked to the door.

"Apologies." Pieterzoon tried to smooth over the situation as if the human lawyer mattered. He smiled and shook Lilah's hand before pouring her a cup of tea and himself a cup of blood. "My thanks for all your work."

Lawson stepped out of the room before making his way to the elevator, planning to head to the sewers. The emptiness hadn't faded but a kernel of hope had taken to ground inside him with just enough anger to make it grow. He had a purpose and at the moment, it kept him moving his feet. It might even push him to shave. He hadn't gotten a solution but tormenting Angel from a mansion with corporate funding was better than anything he had found at the bottom of a bottle.

Maybe they were right, he thought as he pushed the elevator button to go down to the underground parking lot. Perhaps he was hasty in wanting to kill Angel right away.

That would be over too quickly.

He wanted to make Angel suffer. Sure, he'd play by the rules, learn what Pieterzoon's angle was, as he made Angel miserable in the meantime.

Lawson wouldn't be under the thumb of Wolfram & Hart forever.


	5. Sunnydale Survivors

Willow sipped her coffee in a light bathrobe on their apartment's balcony. She watched the Los Angeles sky pinken as the city awoke around her. The home of broken dreams and dizzying success where fortunes could be made today and gone tomorrow. From her perch, she could see a convent and Larry Flynt's skyscraper. That was the City of Angels in a nutshell.

She had woken up earlier than usual after Angel expelled the bad mojo from her home. Nothing had spooked her, she had just woken up refreshed at the dawn without even her alarm. It wasn't often that she saw this side of the morning. Sunrise wasn't new to her, she had often walked home with Xander from the library relishing another day's protection heralded in the sky by the splashes of warm hues and bird song. Seeing the morning with wakeful eyes was a different story.

"Morning." Her mother said as she joined her outside. "What are you doing up?"

"Nothing. Just woke up early and couldn't resist seeing my first LA sunrise. How about you?" Willow turned to face her mom, back against the rail, raising her mug.

"I didn't sleep much that night, I'm afraid." Sheila sighed. More worry lines linger around her eyes than had just months before. "I couldn't help but think about what happened in your room." She looked at her without accusation or blame. "You didn't seem afraid by the disturbance."

Willow took a gulp of coffee to give her time to think. Her mind raced to think of an explanation until she decided to stop lying and give her mother the truth. "I've seen worse in Sunnydale."

The bird chirped in the trees while the sounds of people leaving for work, slamming their car doors, turning up the radio traffic report, filled the silence between them. Los Angeles was waking up.

"When you were gone?" Sheila turned down her gaze.

"No, before that too. There was much more to that town than you would think by looking at it." Willow shrugged thinking of the picturesque main street and all the neighborhoods filled with unassuming ranch houses.

"But what does that mean? Both you and Yvette have given me these cryptic answers." Sighing, Sheila shook her head. "You're trying to be honest with me and I understand that it must be hard. I should be honest with you. I followed you with Buffy before we left town. I saw you fighting a man before he..." Sheila paused. "...disappeared."

"Its what I do." Willow locked eyes with her mother. "Remember when I was in five and you told me that there weren't any monsters, you were wrong." She gestured with her coffee mug. "There are entire monster-fied ecosystems out there."

"You're being literal." Sheila's eyebrows arched, a mocking tone rose in her voice.

"Its nothing to joke about. " Willow let her robe open to reveal the scars on her neck. "What did Dr. Stevenson tell you?"

"To investigate. She gave me the card of a support group and then stopped talking about it." Frustration shone in her expression, lips dipping dourly.

"I don't know what to tell you that won't sound crazy, mom." Willow shrugged, looking out over the city as if the scene might inspire the right words, knowing that nothing could prepare a person for the knowledge that they are at the bottom of the food chain. "Maybe your eyes are open and you can see what's out there in the darkness but I don't know how to explain it. It's something that you have to see to believe at first." Willow turned to her mother, noticing her laugh lines around her mouth and the regret etched into the corners of her eyes, and saw a different woman than the one she had called mother all her life. "I want to tell you everything, but I don't want to overwhelm you or make you feel bad. Maybe you should check out that group, mom. I think they might answer your questions better than I could right now." Willow looked down into her coffee cup before looking up with a smile. "It's such a nice morning that I don't want to ruin it."

"No, I'm just so happy that you let me in, Willow." Her mother wrapped an arm around her. "You can tell me the rest when you're ready."

The wind picked up and the chimes softly made their music as Willow and her mother sipped their coffee and fell into their first comfortable silence in years.

* * *000

Willow stepped into the small hole-in-the-wall office with a knock. "Hello?" It was dark compared to the hallway and it took her eyes a moment to adjust.

She had convinced her mother to let her drive the car and drop off the check to Angel. Bearing a envelope and a pot of fake violets, Willow felt nervous but she didn't want to let it show. There was something she hadn't told her mother this morning and not just about who Angel really was, but what Willow found herself drawn too. Fighting evil. Since she had left Sunnydale, she had felt that something was missing and she knew what it was now. She couldn't go back to being a regular high school girl after two years of playing the sidekick to a superhero. Willow knew what was out there in the darkness and she wanted back in the fight.

Doyle sat at the front desk wearing a bowling shirt, taking notes, a book in front of him. Tomes were stacked around him. He looked up and smiled, tinkle in his blue eyes. "Fancy seeing you here."

She grinned. "Someone had to bring the check. I also come bearing an office-warming gift." Willow looked around the spartan office and held up the fake potted plant. "Its from my neighborhood dollar store, but it should add some color to the place. Plus, it's fake so you guys won't have to worry about killing it."

Doyle stood up from the desk, walked over, and took the plant from Willow. He examined it. "A few homey touches might brighten up the old bat-cave. Thank you." He seemed awkward around her as if he didn't know what to say, but there was something that made her think that he knew more than he let on. He set the plant next to the small coffeemaker on a battered table before he adjusted himself first crossing his arms before putting his hands on his hips then rubbing his hands together. "So, what's it like living on the west side? There many poltergeists out that way?"

"Not that I've heard but I'll keep my ear to the ground. Is Angel in?" She asked to put them both out of their awkward social misery. Dressed in shorts and t-shirt, she could feel herself beginning to sweat in the stuffy office. The windows were cracked open, closed blinds limp in the light breeze, but that hadn't chilled down the place much. Willow would rather blame the lack of air conditioning than her emotions on the sweat beading on her upper lip.

"Coming right up." Doyle strode over to the open door eagerly and disappeared before he bellowed for Angel.

"So, Doyle, how did you and Angel meet?" Willow tried another attempt to make small talk as she wondered what Angel's seer might have seen in his past.

"Outside a min-mart at around two in the morning." He shrugged. "I probably sounded like a crazy man talking about my visions, but Angel's a good guy, he heard me out." Doyle nodded as he leaned against the front desk. "There's a whole mission that Angel fancies but I mostly tag along for the ride."

"Oh, so you're his seer, all Angel-specific and everything?" Willow hadn't read much about them and felt curiosity pecking at her.

"By trade, I suppose, at the moment." Doyle nodded and grinned.

"What is it, Doyle? I'm trying to nap-" Angel stopped in the doorway when he saw Willow. "Did it come back?" Dressed in a long sleeved shirt and slacks, the summer temperature seemed to have no effect on him.

"Nope, just coming to drop off the check and a plastic plant." Willow raised the envelope.

"I told you that you didn't need to pay me." Angel crossed his arms and kept his distance. It seemed as if his grumpy pants were firmly on.

"I know but my mother wanted to and I didn't want to explain that I knew you from before." Willow shrugged. "The plant was just my idea of something nice."

Doyle winced and started to back away. "I'll go and water the plant then." He scurried out of the front office without the fake violets.

Angel nodded, guilt settling onto his expression like a dark cloud, eyes lowered.

"You know, Angel, I want you to know that you can call on me for help if you want." Willow walked to him and handed him the envelope with the check within. "Inside I wrote my email so whenever you need a slayerette, just let me know." She turned and saw a symbol drawn in a notebook on the desk. Willow recognized it from the cover of a book of dark spells that Jenny had scolded her for even looking at. "Why is this here?" She pointed to it.

"Its from a vision that Doyle had." Angel's eyes darted from her face to the notebook as he leaned closer. "We haven't been able to decipher it."

"Check the Writings of Hermeticus on resurrection. I've seen that symbol on the cover of one of Giles's books." She smiled, cautious and shy, before walking away. Willow hoped that Angel would take her advice at least.

* * *000

Drusilla twirled and laughed as the rain fell on them in great bursts. Her pale limbs reflected the city lights and her smile grew wider. The moon and stars paled in comparison of her beauty to him at the moment. Dark eyes luminous with joy, they lingered on him with a lucidity and focus Spike hadn't seen for awhile. She had been so happy that she hadn't even mentioned her broken dolls or the silence on the winds all night.

Spike took her hand and they ran through a darkened New York City alley. Spike couldn't help the grin that spread across his face as they emerged into the light of a corner street lamp and waltzed not far from Times Square. Or from their tourist meal that they had enjoyed after crashing a top box during a smashing performance of Sweeney Todd. It had been like their second honeymoon after they left Sunnydale. Maybe seeing Angelus again had been a way of saying goodbye to ghosts between them. There was something else that Drusilla mentioned about a golden slayer who almost got her hands on him. It had made her take him with a delightful urgency. Spike figured that she had seen a vision of Buffy staking him, but they had averted it she said with a mad grin. He would have been willing to go through the Humbling again to have his ripe wicked plum be so lively and well again. Echoes of William and dark poetry arose in him at the sight of her.

Drusilla took his face in her hands and kissed him deeply, metallic tang of blood in her kiss. Eyes wide and dark, she made him drown in her gaze. His muse and his maker. Her black lace dress had ripped sometime up the side and her curls grown soggy, but she was still the most beautiful women in the world to Spike. Eternally effulgent.

He ignored the black SUV that raced past them until he heard it park and the doors open up. Turning, he broke off the kiss to face the SWAT team looking blokes that poured out of that van and the second that skidded to a stop in the middle of the street. No need to look at Drusilla, they fell into defensive positions on the sidewalk of the now suspiciously quiet street. Spike raised his chin and fists.

The men in black body armor rushed on them as one. Obviously highly trained and skilled, they were more than just professional thugs.

Spike kicked the closest one in the chest before spinning to punch one of his friends in the face. Worry rose up as a flashback of Prague came to mind. Drusilla had nearly died then even when she had her altar of dolls to cast her spells of protection and divination with. Behind the men, he felt a familiar presence.

Lawson.

The pillock stood behind the fray in a swank suit staring at Spike. A smug expression hung on his pale face, he reminded Spike of a poor man's Tom Cruise and Spike hated Tom Cruise.

Drusilla had entranced one with her sight before poking his eyes out and pushing him back. Crackling, she turned to the next with her claws piercing his neck. They fought without mercy but they were out numbered.

Drusilla convulsed, yards away from him, and howled.

Two men grabbed Drusilla away while a woman, judging by her slighter build under the black body armor, tasered her again before tying a cloth around her eyes. The humans tossed her in the van.

Spike growled and charged for her, but stakes jutted up from the billy clubs that the strangers in black wielded and Spike backed up at an angle towards the open road.

Lawson walked up to the line of humans with a shit and apple pie eating grin. "Make sure this one dies. Spike, sorry pal." He turned before stopping with a look over his shoulder. "How was Sweeney Todd by the way?"

"I'm going to play with your innards, you git." Spike gnashed his teeth.

He could see Drusilla thrown into the van before the bastards hopped in with her and closed the back door. Lawson stepped up into the front seat before the van raced away.

Spike vamped out and grabbed the closest one and snapped his neck before running down the street with the men chasing after him. He dodged into alleys before directing himself back towards Times Square where the crowds would get those wankers off his back. Running into traffic and bumping into tourists, Spike made his way towards their haunt in the city to get the de Soto. The last he had heard, Lawson had been on a bender in LA. Even when he was sober and functioning, the GI had never had anything resembling his own SWAT team. The guy came to the mansion with only a used car and a duffel bag. Something else was in play here. Spike wracked his brain while he tried to come up with a plan but all his thoughts kept leading to the same place. Los Angeles. Home of the one vampire in the world that made him want to heave the most, but now Spike needed his help. He just had to think of a way to convince the brooding vampire to give it.

* * *000

Drusilla raised her eyes slowly to acknowledge Lawson, that mysterious smirk lingered on her face, despite the manacles around her wrists and ankles. She had been silent for the jet ride and when she was carried from the helicopter pad on top of the Wolfram & Hart building. The only sign that she noticed her captors at all was the faint hiss she made at Franz when he walked into the meeting room along side Lilah Morgan and a male lawyer with a girl's name that Lawson couldn't quite remember at the moment.

Lawson stood when they entered and leaned over the table slamming his palms on it. "I have the woman, do you have the papers?"

The male lawyer put a briefcase on the table and opened it up before pulling out a scroll made of lambskin. "Indeed, Mr. Lawson. We have it all arranged. My associate and I will retreat to the back of the room so Mr. Pieterzoon can perform the ritual. Madam Matilda and Mr. Sebastian will be listening in on the speakerphone." He nodded and backed away to stand next to Lilah at the door.

"Drusilla, sired by Angelus in the year 1860, has been seen fit to take a consort by the approval of her maker. The Order of Aurelius has decreed that Sam Lawson, sired by Angelus in the year 1944, shall be this consort." Pieterzoon raised his arms and began to chant in Latin in a verse that carried on for five minutes.

Lawson cut his palm, impatient after all that ancient blathering, before cutting Drusilla's and holding their bleeding hands together. Lawson let go of Drusilla and pressed his palm against the back of the scroll. He forced Drusilla forward and made her press her palm against it as well. Drusilla flashed him a mad grin as knowledge lit up like a fire at an insane asylum in her eyes before her face returned to a passive mask so fast he could have imagined it.

"Blood answers to blood and blood shall bind you both." Pieterzoon said before he repeated the phrase in Latin.

Lawson smiled and licked the blood off Drusilla's palm. "Well honey, I guess we're hitched now."

"As consort and guardian of Drusilla, Sam Lawson shall take her place on the council and will inherit the chair of Darla, sired by the Master himself. Mote it be." Pieterzoon said before picking up and the phone on the conference table and murmuring, "It is done." He listened, intent, to the voice on the other end. "As you wish, madam." He pushed a button on the phone to talk to the second line. "The ritual is complete and the scroll has been bloodied."

"Let's get the missus and I home, Lilah." Lawson smirked. Someone's agenda was at play here. Multiple agendas, in truth, his kingmaker, the lawyers, and the Order itself. These were treacherous waters that he had to navigate, but he always floated to the surface before. It all made him feel like an echo of himself again.

* * *000

Sheila took a deep breath before she got out of the car with her sunglasses on and gave a look around the Unitarian church parking lot. A dozen or so people milled outside with Styrofoam cups. She didn't expect so many and she already recognized some she knew. One of the bank clerks and their dentist. Walking inside, she pushed her sunglasses up and stepped past the few people in the hall, down to the basement where the meeting room was. There were more people inside than out, some sat in metal chairs and others were around the refreshment table. The chairs were arranged in a semi circle and in the middle was Yvette Stevenson. Sheila walked through the crowd to her friend, seeing more familiar faces who nodded to her. "Yvette, hello."

"Sheila, I'm glad that you came." She pulled her friend in for a hug. "Find a seat, we should begin in a minute."

Sheila nodded, ignoring the sinking nervousness that welled up, found a seat in the back row. She couldn't be sure if she was more dreading the truth or hoping for a lie.

People filtered back in and took their seats while Yvette smiled at the audience before she greeted them. She took a sip of water from a bottle on a tall stool in the middle before she began. "Another month has gone by in Sunnydale. We lost seven people. Rebecca Johnson. Trevor Stavros, Trey Chen, Monica Sanchez, Billy French, Veronica Bentley, and our own Cindy MacNamara. If this was a normal town, we would have a moment of silence, but we don't. We can't be silent. This town feeds on that."

Sheila nodded her head with the rest but kept her eyes darting around. She saw a colleague from the university and the neighbor's landscaper.

"We have some new faces today and hopefully they will speak up in their own time. I haven't told my story in awhile but I think it might be time. Some of you know and some of you don't know why I started this group." Yvette paused. "I once was married to a fabulous man. We had met at a party off the Morehouse campus when we were nineteen and by twenty-five, we had decided to be together for the rest of our lives. My work took us to Sunnydale. He was murdered on a Monday night and I saw him again on Wednesday." Yvette choked up for a moment before recovering herself. "He wanted to come in. He had become something that I didn't know the name for. Back then I was just so happy to see him, I thought I must be dreaming, so I ran out and gave him a hug. It was only after he had changed that I knew he wasn't my husband anymore. I pushed him away from me and came back inside. It was only later that I knew what he had become. For weeks, he would stalk me until the day came when he found me in the back yard and I had to stake him. Marshall Stevenson was my husband's name." Yvette wiped her eyes with her thumbs. "Some have asked me why I stayed in this town. I stayed because there were others like me that needed help. There is evil in this town and I decided to fight it. Every day, all of you fight it by getting up and going on with your lives." She looked at Sheila. There was a wealth of sympathy and understanding in those bespectacled brown eyes. "We're not just ordinary people, we're survivors."

* * *000

Willow stepped into the library and opened her mouth to give Buffy a cheerful hello until she saw the expression on the vampire slayer's face.

Buffy stood by the long table with her fist pressed against the wood as she appeared to be deep in thought. There was something about the harsh line of her lips and furrowed brow that made Willow's heart go out to her.

"Buffy, what is it?" Willow asked as she walked up and put an arm around her friend.

"The Mayor is up to something big, Will." Buffy turned to Willow and gave her a hug. "I was too late to save them and the Mayor was gone before... They were all hanging by their feet and their faces-" Buffy's voice cracked. She looked so blue despite her hot pink sweater.

"Shhh." Willow stroked her friend's hair. "You aren't everywhere at once and you can't blame yourself for this."

"You weren't there. It was horrible. He's not just looking for reelection, he's starting..." Buffy shook her head and pulled away, brushing her hair back with both hands. "We don't even know yet but he's trying to increase his power."

Willow frowned. She knew enough about the mayor to know that power in that man's hands would do more damage than your average corrupt politician. "How?"

"Dark magic, Ms. Calendar says. The darkest kind. Its gotten bad, Will. It seems like every week, its something new. Remember when we wondered where all the evil was that one night? Well, it was just bidding its time." Buffy covered her eyes. "And, we have no idea yet what he wants to do with that power. Nothing at all. Its like we've looked through every book and there isn't anything more to know besides, its evil and he's a bad bad man. Practically square one and we're still running around looking for more squares."

"Buffy..." Willow trailed off. Her friend was tiny but still she had to take the world on her shoulders night after night. There was little comfort to give to the Chosen One. Willow's heart broke for her.

"I know, its not my responsibility to know everything in advance. I'm not a psychic, I'm a slayer but just for once I wish that the world would just throw me a clue." Buffy sighed and ran her hands through her loose blond hair. "I'm sorry, Will, I shouldn't just unload on you without saying hello first."

"No, its fine. You gotta tell someone and I'm glad that its me." Willow felt guilt rise up as she knew that she should have been there with Buffy. She should have been around to help out. It made her feel useless being so far away from the action. "What can I do to help?"

Jenny walked in. "You can help by researching this spell with me." Jenny carried a few books in her hands and dropped them on the long table. "Buffy already gave you the latest on the Mayor, I can tell by the frowns. Well, we have something that might let us in on his secrets."

After two hours of research, Willow finally got to the cool magic portion of the Scooby session. Sitting cross-legged on Giles' office floor, she held Jenny's hands over a map of the town covered by multi-colored sand.

Jenny was the one in control of the spell, she rocked back and forth, eyes screwed shut.

Willow kept Jenny steady and pushed her magic through their linked hands for the teacher's use. She grew drowsy. Forcing herself upright, she fought the heaviness in her limbs. A rush of wind seemed to blow past her, making her shiver, as the power rose up and out to Jenny.

"Aperio." Jenny opened her eyes and let go.

Willow looked down on the map and how the sand had arranged itself in concentric circles around city hall. She didn't get it. "What does it mean?"

"See how it goes from black to indigo?" Jenny pointed to it. "Not good even if I didn't see the astral markings around city hall." She sighed and ran her hands through her hair. "I saw what I needed to but I'm sure..." Jenny shook her head. Disquiet radiated from Jenny, but her expression was closed off. "Don't mind me, get yourself something to eat. Take Buffy away from mace practice for a little fun."

"Are you sure?" Willow asked, carefully standing to not disturb the map. She already knew that the teacher would say no. Willow was still the Jimmy Olsen to Jenny's Clark Kent.

Jenny nodded, opening her mouth before pausing as if she changed her mind before simply saying, "Thank you for your help."

Willow took a last look behind her at the colorful map that held the mayor's secrets before walking out the door and finding Buffy. They only walked to the ice cream shop and back, but by the time that Willow was picked up, she was ready for a nap. She fell asleep in the car before they reached Oxnard.

000

Angel felt Spike before he heard the rustle of his leather jacket or smelled the hint of tobacco and was up and out of his bed in a single moment. Napping before patrol, He had only a undershirt and pajama pants on, but he already slipped into hunting mode. Angel sensed the sun had set while he slept. Rushing to the living room, he charged and pressed Spike up against the wall, face first, and snarled. "What are you doing here?"

"Gerrof!" Spike mumbled. He smelled like ozone and luggage as if he had smuggled his way into a plane's cargo hold. A bruise darkened his cheek. His blond hair wasn't shellacked back but mussed.

"What?" Angel eased up on the pressure. This wouldn't be good whatever it was. He'd be more calm if Spike had came in with a branding iron. Sneaking in without a weapon or a insult wasn't William the Bloody's style.

"Get off!" Spike tried to shrug Angel off. "I'm here to help you, git."

"I doubt it but explain yourself." Angel said, forearm on Spike's back. The worry wasn't in his voice but he was glad that Spike faced the brick wall.

"You know that pesky Lawson problem of yours?" Spike's voice went dark and low.

"I don't have one." Angel scoffed. Lawson had gotten himself lost in the city and had done little more than drink his way through most of the demon joints. Last he had seen, Lawson had been sleeping under a bridge in a shaded nook.

"Oh, bother, you don't even know what's going on do you? What the tosser has planned?" Spike shook his head. "Let me enlighten you, he's stolen Drusilla." His voice broke into a plea. "Drusilla."

"Why is this my problem?" Angel didn't like the sound of that. Lawson hadn't seemed enamored of Drusilla so this couldn't have been a heavy-handed attempt at vampire seduction.

"Because he's moving into your territory in more ways than one. I've heard that he's caught the eye of those Order fat cats that the Master-bater made before Darla." Spike snarled and tried to shake him off again.

"Go on, I'm not impressed." Angel slammed Spike back against the brick wall.

"You think that he is going to stop at Drusilla? Taking your place on the council, he is. Maybe you might not care about your childe, but what about that little redheaded chit? Claimed her once upon a time, and even submitted the bloody paperwork?" Spike reminded him. "Won't be able to call this your city anymore after he is done."

"He wouldn't dare. Last I knew, he was slumming in dives and drinking himself back into the grave. Gave me the slip a few weeks ago and I haven't heard from him since." Angel couldn't stop the uncertainty from his tone.

"Because, you thick git, he's up to something. They call it laying low. Now he's gotten himself a backer with more clout than that wanker could muster on his best night before. You think he's not going to dot his i's and cross his t's? He's taking over and taking your redhead is just the cherry on the sundae to show all the other demons whose in control." Spike turned more desperate. "What about your slayer? Think that he'll keep a slayer in his backyard, mucking up his plans?"

"Say, I believe you. Why would you think I'd work with you?" Angel asked into Spike's ear, pressing him harder against the wall. "Didn't end well last time."

"Because I can help you kill him and save the day and you won't see either me or Drusilla again for a long long time." Spike turned his head to look into Angel's eyes. Their faces only inches apart. Worry haunted Spike's expression.

"Spike, you're like a unlucky penny, you just keep popping up." Angel shook his head, blocking the old memories of nights long since past with Spike by his side, and eased up on him. "I'll take the bait."

"Good. You know where Lawson has been lurking around. Now time to figure out who he's been working with. Drusilla got taken by a SWAT team and I know neither that stuck up princess or poncy Sebastian would send him that kind of manpower. Emphasis on the man." Spike gritted his teeth, shame making his jaw tense, his eyes narrowed.

Angel let him go and backed away. "Last I heard, he was at a karaoke bar in Silverlake."

"Ugh, now I really want to kill him good. Amateur singers are hell on paranormal ears." Spike turned around and gestured towards the elevator. "After you, you heroic hunk of night thing. What are you supposed to be anyway, a vampire for hire?"

"Yeah, you going to pay me?" Angel grumbled as he crossed his arms.

"Only with my company and biting wit."


	6. Consorts and Confessions

Lawson sat on the floor across from Drusilla who sat primly in her chains. He had made sure that she had a new dress, it was some black riding dress, modern get up with lacy leggings that the personal shopper had brought after he gave her Drusilla's picture a Wolfram & Hart credit card. A lady minion had gotten Drusilla ready. He tried to make her more comfortable. The chains even had a layer of fur inside the manacles. Lawson figured that while she might be pissed at him for a couple of decades, he had better lay the groundwork for peaceful arrangement, at least, that's what he told himself when he was sober. which wasn't the case at the moment. "You look like you're going on a fox hunt at Studio 54."

Drusilla raised an eyebrow. "I've heard of foxes and woodcutters once or twice, but foxes, no matter how cunning, are poor game." She lifted her arms. "A consort in chains. My black knight shall be ever so displeased."

"Vampire law doesn't recognized duress. Besides Spike will be dealt with." Lawson shrugged and waved his glass. “I guess.”

"If he dies, you know I'll eat your eyeballs and split your tongue before feeding you to dogs." Drusilla folded her hands on her lap. Lucidity radiated from her eyes. "He yet lives and you'll keep it that way if you want my best behavior. I can be a lady or I can be the devil."

"You're not making demands here, Drusilla." Lawson took a swig from his glass of bourbon. He was sprawled out against the wall, black shirt unbuttoned and untucked from his slacks. "I saw what Penn did to your altar. You can bewitch some but you're in no position to enthrall us all." He held up his rawhide necklace with his thumb. "And that law firm fixed it so you can't bewitch me."

Drusilla laughed, wide eyes rolling. "Fish tell me tales of you out swimming the sun. You fall asleep, on sheets of liquor, hearing the ocean echo in your mind. You've seen the darkness that lay beneath the shining waves. There is more to the ocean than what you see, never dream of measuring the magic is my own strength." So delicate and pale, with her skinny deer-like limbs and bird bones, her words would have been amusing if he hadn't believed her.

"You told me once that we would be the best of friends. That's all I'm asking now. I'm not going to ask for any conjugal duties and you can waltz around the world with Spike while I do the boring stuff. This all meant nothing to you before, it shouldn't now." Lawson cajoled, head swimming, as he made himself sit up straighter.

Drusilla rolled her eyes. "Like frogs and scorpions." She stared at him in the eye and he shivered despite himself. "I'll be a proper lady just like my mum taught me."

Lawson raised his glass. "Here's hoping. Keep singing that tune and you'll be out of here, sucking face with Billy Idol again."

She leaned forward, almost girlish in her excitement that made her almost seem alive. “I must say, its most exciting not to know, not to hear so much of those whispers and scolds. I'd rather like to see where this is all going.”

* * *

Willow wore the goggles and sound canceling headphones as she put her legs in the shooting stance her dad had shown her. She picked up the gun, raised it, took aim, and fired. Shooting with only a few seconds space between bullets. The paper target ripped at the neck and chest as she missed the heart but she caused enough damage to make her lip curl in distaste. She didn't like shooting but she did it because her dad had wanted her too. It was important to him and he had been right about the self-defense classes. They had definitely improved the Scoobies' skills and it had been fun to practice with Buffy and Xander. Willow set the gun down with a trembling sore hand before taking off her headphones and goggles and smiling at Xander and her dad. "How was that?"

"The paper man is in critical condition so I'd say pretty good." Xander said, taking his headphones off, before giving her the thumbs up. He looked comfortable and happy in the goggles along with his jeans and an old Batman shirt that she had bought him years ago for Christmas. All his military training that he got when he was turned into a soldier for Halloween hadn't faded so his shooting had gotten whistles of appreciation from her father and a clap on the shoulder from the owner of the range.

"My hand hurts." She frowned. "How about we get ice cream, I think my hand would feel better if it had a ice cream cone in it." She perked up and rocked on her heels.

"Fine, fine." Her dad grinned, headphones on his arm, and the goggles still over his glasses. "Xander, you had enough shooting?"

"Yeah, Rocky Road is sounding pretty good right now." Xander said, smiling. “Dr. Xander recommends a dash of marshmallows and heaping lot of chocolate for that hand.”

Her dad put his arm around Willow and they walked out in search of an ice cream shop and settled on a 50s style diner that that walls packed with retro memorabilia and waitresses in poodle skirts.

Willow and Xander sat at the counter on stools while her dad went to the restroom. After ordering from a guy whose name tag read Fonzie, they fell into a silent lull in the conversation as a milkshake blender roared.

Willow smiled at her oldest friend and waited until the machine stopped. “I missed this.”

“Me too.” Xander gave her hand a squeeze, he looked as if he was going to say something else but instead he grinned and pulled her in for a Xander-fied bear hug.

Her dad came back as the first sundae arrived and soon enough they were joking about the old sitcom stars on the wall. Xander recited the full Giligan's Island theme song and they discussed the merits of coconut trees in zany inventions. As her dad paid for the ice cream, Xander put his arm over her shoulders before they walked out to the parking lot.

After they dropped off Xander, they headed back to Los Angeles. The car grew quiet as her father seemed to grow more pensive in thought. “I know that I blew up when those paranormal investigations showed up. I'm sorry.”

Willow blinked and arched her eyebrows in shock. Her dad hadn't mentioned the poltergeist incident since the night when Angel and Doyle had performed an exorcism. “Its okay, dad.” She shrugged as she wondered where he was going with this.

“I shouldn't have lost my temper, but I just want to give you tangible tools for defense. We all know that what happened wasn't normal. At the apartment or in Sunnydale.” His eyes darted from the road to look at her in the rear view mirror. He hadn't pushed her for information or scrutinized her as her mother had. What Willow had appreciated about her dad was how he hadn't pried but she guessed that hadn't stopped him from drawing his own conclusions. “I realize that there are things that I can't protect you from, but I don't understand it. None of it. I don't know if I even could wrap my mind around the enormity that it encompassed. It scares me and... well,” he paused as he collected his thoughts and shifted into their exit lane, “I can understand a gun; I can understand a punch. That is what I can pass onto you. A concrete skill. You have to know that even when I'm blowing up that all I want to do is to make sure you're safe. That we're all safe.”

“I know. I've always known.” She laid her hand on his for a moment on the stick shift. Willow wished she could be completely honest but she could only camouflage the lies with the truth. “I should have asked your permission before I hired the first guys I found in the phone book.”

Her dad smiled at her before he said, “I'm glad that we've doing stuff together.”

“Me too.” Willow smiled, there had been something so sincere and regretful about her father since she had come back that she couldn't help but join him in daddy-daughter activities. For the first time in years, it felt like she had a relationship with her father.

“I know that for a long time, I wasn't around. And I was the one who missed out, kid. I'm sorry, Willow. But, this is our fresh start.” He took a hand off the wheel to pat her shoulder.

Willow smiled and for once a 'fresh start' didn't sound like a cliche. “I'd like that, Dad.”

 

* * *

Angel slid a bill on the counter as he leaned over, giving Spike the side eye, wondering if soon enough his face would stay that way after all the times that he had shot Spike a glare since he woke up. He had hoped for a new client but after so many hours alongside the peroxide vampire, Angel didn't think he needed the work that bad. The enemy of his enemy wasn't his friend- just annoying.

Spike only ignored him in the gloom.

Typical.

The club, called Caritas, was lit for atmosphere with strobe and mood lights. A mixed crowd of demons and humans mingled around the stage. It was crowded even only a little after nine. They had arrived, thankfully, in a lull between songs.

Spike had already gotten into vampire face as he glowered at the bartender. Hands crossed and hidden under his arms, he growled on a lower register than humans couldn't detect despite reacting with unconscious fear.

The human bartender didn't seem to hear the growling but it was irritating Angel. “Ignore him. Just tell me who came to see a slight, surly, drunken vampire that goes by the name Lawson. He has black hair and blue eyes. We've heard he hangs out here.”

The bartender, Ramon, according to his name tag, didn't stop wiping the cup in his hands. A unimpressed expression hung on his tanned face- even his thin mustache seemed jaded. “Keep the money unless you're drinking. That bum hasn't been here since the vampire in the suit came in and bought him a drink. Personally, I'm glad he's gone.”

“What this Suit look like?” Angel asked, suspicions flagged as it narrowed down his list of enemies.

“Handsome but dead Blonde, taller than me but shorter than you. I remember that Lawson cat call him a 'dutch fuck' but I was trying to ignore that asshole so I don't know what they talked about.” The bartender shrugged. “That Lawson guy was scum, this city could do with less of his kind. Piss poor tipper too”

Spike and Angel shared a look and were on the same wavelength. There was one likely candidate that Angel had no problem sinking his teeth into. He left the bill on the counter.

“Agreed, mate.” Spike pushed himself away from the bar. “Give me a shot of tequila.”

The bartender slapped it down and filled a shot glass.

Spike tipped his head back and sucked it down. “Ta.”

“Thanks.” Angel pushed Spike towards the door with a shove as a Chaos demon dedicated a Gloria Gaynor song to his ex-fiance. Angel cringed. This investigation had already gone on long enough. He hoped that this clue might be the one to get both Lawson and Spike out of his hair.

“What? The bloke said to have a drink.”

* * *  
Angel came back to his apartment with Spike through the sewers to find Willow and Doyle in the front office drinking coffee together on the couch. A salt circle and black candles were set up in front of them with a map of Los Angeles in the middle. He had seen more surprising sights but he wouldn't have expected Willow to come back after dropping off the check. She looked tired but jovial in a light sheer pink sweater over a black tank top and in a gray pencil skirt that seemed more like it belonged on a woman in a catalog than herself. He never thought that he would miss her cheerful hats and overalls.

"So, I says to Angel, you're immortal, why don't you go after the zombie?" Doyle said with a laugh. “You probably shop at the same coffin store!”

Willow giggled and shook her head. Her long dyed brown hair swayed around her shoulders. She smelled of lemons and vanilla. "But, how did it get into the swimming pool?"

“For the record, we don't sleep in coffins.” Angel felt like an intruder even when summoned as he made himself known. Before now, he hadn't realized that she looked like whole different girl from the one he had met in Sunnydale. It shouldn't have surprised him because in many ways, she was far removed from the Willow that was. The Lingering Kiss and its dark pull was only the beginning of the damage he had wrought upon her.

“Heya, Angel.” She made a small wave as strain dimmed her smile.

"Hello, Willow." Angel crossed his arms. "Has something happened?"

Willow shook her head and frowned. "No, I'm fine. Have you got the extra hemlock together? Doyle said tha-" She did a double take when Spike walked into the doorway into the front office. "Angel, what is he doing here?"

Angel asked at the same time as he started to put the pieces together, "Doyle, what is she doing here?"

"You got a witch in the phone book, why not ask her to help?" Doyle shrugged.

"Hey, I'm a client. Not paying mind you, but still." Spiked nodded towards Willow. "Yeah, tall, dark and forehead is right. What are you doing here?"

Willow set down her coffee cup and folded her arms. "I was supposed to help you two with the tracking spell. Doyle said you had a bad guy that you needed found that you had a blood connection to. Its an a big vague demonic situation. Ring any bells?"

"Oi, she's a witch?" Spike looked at Angel. "Why didn't you juice her up and have her track Dru down and save me from having to hear the first stanza of 'I Will Survive' sung by a chaos demon?"

"What?" Willow's quick eyes narrowed and her tone was low even as a blush of anger spread across her cheeks. She crossed her arms.

"You know, get a magic boost with a hit of the red stuff." Spike, cheekbones prominent as he pursed his lips, looked at Angel, head tilted. "You did tell her right?"

"No, I didn't." Angel said, voice low and quiet with warning, his eyes flashed yellow when he glared at Spike. That was the last thing he would want Willow to know. His blood could be more than corrupting and he didn't want anything to be feeding that disease. "She's not to be fed, Spike. She's being cured of this addiction."

Doubt darkened her gaze as she looked between the two vampires. “I thought that if I ever had too much blood again that I would be forever addicted.”

Spike snorted. “Did Nancy Reagan tell you that?”

Willow shot Angel a look of disgust and annoyance as her eyes turned cold. “It would be nice not to be left in the dark about this stuff. Since, you know, its happening to me. To my body.” She shook her head while clenching her fists.. “I can do your spell, with or without blood.” Frowning, she tilted her head and thought. “Actually, we might need blood, but not for me. Also we need something of Drusilla's.”

Spike nodded and left for the basement apartment before returning in a trice with an armless doll with a chipped face and auburn hair. “Here's Miss Edith. She loves this thing.”

Willow took the doll and placed it at the head of the map before she knelt by the circle and lit the candles before taking a deep breath and holding her hands over it all. “Drip some blood onto the map, Angel.”

Spike folded his arms and nodded. “Hop too. I'm not not paying you for nothing, peaches.”

Angel, against his better judgment, cut his finger with his thumb nail then shook it to fling blood onto the map. Miss Edith's glass eyes stared into his.

The candles flared as the blood swirled and then hovered over a section of the map in a fine mist. It was near where his almost townhouse had been.

Sweat beaded on Willow's forehead. Her forehead wrinkled in concentration. “Something is blocking me.”

“That's enough then. Thank you, Willow.” Angel put his hand on her shoulder.

Willow shook off his touch with a glare then stood, brushing off her knees, before putting her hands on her hips. “What's going on Angel? What's this about Drusilla?”

“You shouldn't be involved in this.” Angel shook his head and stepped away from her.

Willow nodded and frowned as she gathered her purse. Lips thin from annoyance. “Okay, fine, when you decide that you want to tell me the truth, let me know.” She turned heel and left with only her lemon vanilla scent to linger behind her.

Spike slow-clapped. “Bravo.”

Angel felt like a cad as he rubbed his hand over his eyes. “This day gets better and better.”

* * *

The one-way windows outside the room seemed so inviting with the bright sunshine and vibrant tidy lawn outside the clinic. Sunnydale and its quaint small town life, boy, was it ever a joke. A hunger pang made Willow lose her train of thought while explaining the ghost situation at her apartment. "When we talked, finally, it was like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders." Willow shrugged. "I didn't tell her everything but I let her in."

Dr. Stevenson nodded, her hands folded on her clipboard, as she kept eye contact. Sympathy shone behind her glasses. "I'm sure she appreciated that."

Willow clapped her hands and jumped up, trying to not seem to eager. “And, that is an hour. I'll see you next time.” She adjusted her gray skirt and picked up her bag. “Have a nice day.”

“Willow, I have a serious question for you. At your old high school, have you ever meet a strong blonde girl who might be known for fights or mysterious rumors?” Dr. Stevenson's face looked guarded behind her glasses.

Willow nodded slowly, trying not to show anything on her face. There was only one girl she could be talking about- Buffy. “My locker was close to hers.”

Dr. Stevenson smiled. “Could you drop a message in her locker or give it to a friend of hers? This is important.”

“Of course, I'm meeting a friend on campus today,” Willow chirped with a practiced casual shrug. The Scoobies had always figured that the people of Sunnydale were hopelessly oblivious. Some out there must have been paying attention.

“Thank you, Willow.” Dr. Stevenson handed her the small envelope with the message inside.

“Its no problem. See you next time.” Willow took it and nodded. Wishing her fingers could absorb the message by magic as she practically died from curiosity while walking from the room. "Good bye."

The library was stuffy when Willow walked in, light salad hanging heavy in her stomach, as she thought about her mother going to Dr. Stevenson's support group. They had talked about it over lunch at their favorite tea room but even in the sun, a dark pale had been cast over the table. Her mother had asked her to go with her but, Willow wasn't ready. She told herself it was because she was needed more in the library.

Jenny and Giles weren't at the long table with research material around them as usual. She walked over to the table to see Giles's notes on the Mayor in his open leather bound journal. Buffy had ruined a sacrifice this morning but there was another. Giles' small handwriting had scribbled down bullet points and arrows filled with watcher jargon and obscure references but she made out that a city hall clerk named Cindy MacNamara had been killed in a ritual. All signs pointed to the Mayor. Willow jumped when Giles and Jenny walked in before smiling. "I have a message for you guys. It was really weird. My therapist has heard of Buffy and I've just been dying to open this bad boy up and see whats inside-"

"Willow, slow down, what?" Jenny asked, tossing her up arms, wide red sleeves bellowing up.

"A message." Willow pulled it out of her purse. She opened it up and read it aloud making sure to be slower in the delivery. "'I do not know your name, but I know who you are. You're a hero who fights in secret. Sunnydale needs its heroes more than ever now. I've tried my best to heal survivors but now we are in danger again. I led a support group and my members have been targeted. One has been killed — Cindy MacNamara. Please help us.' It came with a little flier for her group.”

"Targeted?" Jenny asked at the same time that Giles asked, "Support group?"

"They call themselves the Sunnydale Survivors. My mom is going to a meeting tonight." Willow shrugged. "I can tell you more about them after."

Giles and Jenny looked at each other before Jenny asked, "Could it have been the mayor?"

"Could what have been the Mayor?" A familiar voice said as the library door swung open. The Mayor strode in with the easy confidence of a man who knew he was king. There was little in his middle-aged, Midwestern demeanor to hint that behind the mild-mannered mayor was a raging sociopath of a wizard. An easy grin spread wider across his cheery expression. He looked like he was about to judge a pie-making contest at a local fair but the room felt colder at his entrance. "So, this is where the slayer has her headquarters. From her grades, I assume she doesn't do her homework here. Its a pity. Education is the key to a bright future. Though, I suppose, even if she was an honor student, I'd still have to kill her for-”

"Get out." Giles turned and stood straighter as he adjusted his glasses.

"I believe I was talking. Interrupting is a bad habit. Think of the example you're setting for the young witch here.” The Mayor raised his hand as his grin evaporated. “Speaking of examples, Miss Rosenberg would do well not to emulate her nosy mother. Curiosity can do more than kill cats.”

Willow felt the power in the air, too surprised by the attack to throw up either of the two shielding spells she knew, before she was forced to sit down. Magic kept her pinned into a chair. As she tried to clear herself of the spell, throwing all that she had at it, her cravings doubled and she slumped over as the pressure tightened around her chest and she struggled to breathe. Dark blotches marred her sight, she wondered if her luck would finally run out.

At the same time, Jenny was pushed back against the table, heeled boots lifted off the ground for a moment, before she hit the wood with a grunt. Sweat dripped down her temple and she gritted her teeth. Jenny's magic felt like a single rain drop compared to the Mayor's thunderstorm.

Giles still stood, but his legs shook as the aura of power around him flickered. His face grew pale.

"Your girl ruined another one of my sacrifices. An important one for my constituents. I don't like to make promises that I can't keep. This one I can." The Mayor smiled, showing teeth, and jerked his hand down.

Giles fell on his back, convulsing, tweed-clad legs kicking out, and jaw clenching with a snap. His glasses tumbled off his face onto the floor. Sweat and tears created a sheen on his grimacing expression. Lines of pain were etched around his wide, rolling, gray eyes.

"Rupert!" Jenny managed to yell.

Willow couldn't even find the power to defy the Mayor's magic and cry.

"If your vampire slayer steps out of line again, I will kill her and all of you." The Mayor nodded as his eyes swept over the scene. "Have a nice day, now." He turned and walked out as he called over his shoulder. “Don't forget to vote.”

* * *

Lawson was on the couch in Franz's penthouse. The boring modern furniture made him as sleepy as the bourbon did so he laid out on the couch with an arm over his eyes. He heard Franz agree with the vampire on the other end of the telephone line before he heard the footsteps coming towards him. The negotiations with the Order fat cats had been long and tedious and by the third hour, he had grown bored and left Franz to it.

"You're now the most important vampire on the west coast." Franz said somewhere above him

Lawson moved his arm, dignified Franz with a contemptuous glance, before he sat up and stretched. He snorted. "And, what do I owe for this privilege, kingmaker?"

"A modest fee as agreed." Franz bowed, a smile curling at his lips, in his slacks and partially unbuttoned collared shirt, appropriately green, that had lost its starch four bargaining point ago. His uncuffed sleeves were rolled up and ink stained the fingers wrapped around a small cup of blood.

Lawson shook his head with a dry laugh. "You've gone above and beyond for your 'modest' fee."

Franz nodded, offering a shrug and a neutral expression in place of a genuine emotion. "A simple trifle that I know you have no interest in."

"Spit it out, Dutch." Lawson knew that no one worked for free. Franz had been hustling around his town like it was his own ass being put into the council chair. A vampire of his age didn't do that for anything as simple as money.

"I want you to waive your rights of sire over Willow Rosenberg. I'd rather that she be declaimed by Angelus and given free license again." Franz kept his face a blank slate.

Lawson tipped his head back and laughed, remembering that moment between Franz and the pet in the hallway before the Humbling, as the light bulb finally turned on in the attic. "Now, I understand. Fine fine. That dame is on her own." Lawson stood up and held out his hand for a shake.

Franz shook his hand. "My gratitude."

Lawson pulled away. "I'll be going then. I'm sure that you have much to plan with the drive-Angel-insane gambit." He stalked to the door, reached for the doorknob before turning his head, and saying, "Tell Wolfram & Hart that I'll keep to our deal. Angel is safe from me." He walked out the door with a chuckle. “I don't want him to miss what's coming to him.”

* * *


	7. Favors Owed

Willow screamed for help when she was finally able to move. Her feet were asleep and she stumbled. She had never felt human magic that strong. The Mayor was more than your average mage. She knew that from hard experience now. Chilled and shaking, she hobbled to the phone and picked it up to report the emergency.

Jenny threw herself at Giles and yelled at him to wake up. She touched his face. Her usually sleek black hair was mussed from her struggles. A light stream of blood trickled down her chin from where she had bit her lip. Her voice grew hoarse.

Giles didn't respond.

The next twenty minutes seemed to blur together as Willow and Jenny followed the ambulance to the hospital. Willow walked behind the stretcher into the painfully familiar waiting room before she glimpsed her mother sitting in one of the plastic gray chairs with a bandage over her forehead.

Jenny stopped by the nurses and questioned them about what going to happen to Giles.

Willow walked over to her mother. "Mom, what happened?"

"We were attacked!" Her mother touched her bandage and winced. “At the meeting, after it was over, some men with deformed faces ganged up on us in the parking lot. Your friend Buffy helped chase them away. She was going to go get you at the library."

Willow nodded, forcing herself to keep it together when she just wanted to fall apart. "Mom, give me a moment and I'll drive us home, okay?"

Her mother nodded, features strained, as she rubbed the back of her neck.

Willow walked over to Jenny and asked to use her blocky cellphone. "My mom's group was attacked and Buffy saved them. She's gone back to the library, my mom said. I'll leave her a message before I take my mother home."

Jenny handed over the phone. "We'll let you know his condition when we can."

"Thank you." Willow picked up the phone and called Buffy's pager before leaving a message on the library answering machine about Giles. "Tell her that I say thanks for saving my mom, too." She gave Jenny a hug before collecting her mother and getting her into the car. All she could think about, as she raced out of town, was how were they going to defeat the Mayor. It had seemed impossible even with all the Scoobies in commission, now Willow could only think of one thing that might balance the odds.

Maybe that was why Angel didn't want to let her know about that one side effect of the Lingering Kiss.  
* * *

Willow got home two hours later and collapsed, still in her shoes, face first on her bed. Hugging her pink pillow, she closed her eyes and yawned. It had been a longer than long day. Her whole body seemed to be limp with exhaustion even as her mind couldn't stop repeating the traumas of the night. Giles kept convulsing behind her eyes. Sighing, she rolled over when the phone rang. Of course, when she wanted to sleep, everyone wanted to talk. "Hello?" She picked up the cordless handset on her bedside stand.

"Willow, its your ghost busting buddy, Doyle. Could you do a bit of a look up on Lawson? My search engine is more like a search abacus tonight. We think he is working with Wolfram and Hart right about where your spell found him."

"Sure." Willow stood up, went to her desk, and picked up a pen. "What's the area again?" She wrote it down on a post-it note. "I'll get the info, but tell Angel he needs to met me outside...” Her stomach growled. “...the Spudnuts two streets from my house in an hour to get it. Tell him it's trouble back home."

"Spudnuts?"

"These potato doughnuts that are made of awesome and processed sugar." Willow's stomach growled at that thought of one with maple icing on top. All the magic tonight had given her an appetite once she had gotten out of the danger zone.

"Sounds tasty. I'll let the big vamp in charge know. Thank you. Hey, do you mind that when you talk to him, you try to make it sound more like you called me? I'm handy with a keyboard but I got nothing in the face of Wolfram & Hart's firewall."

“I will. Good luck getting the bad guy. Night.” Willow set down the phone and opened up her laptop with only one longing look at her pillow. Setting her sights on the internet browser, she rolled up her metaphoric sleeves and got to work. The hardest part would not be hacking through the law firm's firewalls. It was the talking to Angel part that gave her the wiggins because she knew he wouldn't like a word of what she said. A seed of a bad idea had taken root and Willow knew that she wouldn't be able to sleep until she told Angel. Seeing her mother in the hospital waiting room had brought it home that it wasn't just herself that was in danger. Her whole family was a target now.

 

* * *

Willow was brushing the doughnut crumbs off her lap when she felt Angel appear out of the gloom from the cracked parking lot of the small strip mall. She looked up at him and knew that she'd be able to find him even if it was pitch black. Her breath caught as the hunger rose. Willow had hoped that the uber-tempting sugars and fats of the doughnut would tame the craving. No joy. Trying to resist the Mayor's spell had taken so much out of her that it took all her willpower not to ask the first question that came to mind. Could she have more blood?

"Hello, Angel. Nice out, huh?" She rocked on her toes and wane smile on her lips, internally berating her choice of small talk before blurting out, "Still having problems with Lawson?"

"How did you know?" Angel tilted his head back into the shadows.

"I called Doyle.” She paused. “Because I had to talk to you about what happened in Sunnydale. He let it drop that you needed a clue where Lawson might be living. I found three houses that have been sold by Wolfram and Hart in the area." She reached in her pocket and fished out a folded paper with three addresses printed on it.

Angel's eyes narrowed in recognition before he slipped the piece of paper into his jacket. "Thank you. Doyle was actually supposed to find this out himself."

“Hey, he did!” Willow squeaked out. “In his own way.”

He arched an eyebrow as a corner of his mouth almost lifted up at the transparency of her lie. “What happened in Sunnydale?”

Only blunt words or useless filler came through to her despite practicing her speech about do-gooding, friendship, civic duty, responsibility, and above all else blood while in front of the mirror. Willow drew a blank as only varying sounds of hesitation escaped her. She didn't know how to broach the subject so she raised the a small box of donuts in her hands. "Want one?"

"No." Angel looked at the box in surprise. "What's going on, Willow?"

"Let's walk. Maybe walking might help and make this less awkward." Willow took a deep breath and nodded in the direction of her apartment building. "I went to Sunnydale today. The Mayor isn't just smiling on the television and scheming in the background anymore. He's up to something big and Buffy has been trying to keep up with him, but he attacked Giles in the library today. I was there.” She wanted to rub the chill away from her arms that felt so exposed under her sheer pink sweater.

"Are you okay?" Angel asked, concern in his voice even if it wasn't in his expression.

“I'm fine, but I still haven't heard from Jenny about how Giles is." She thought back to how still he was on the stretcher. What would Buffy do without her watcher? What chance did they have without his strength against the Mayor?

“The Mayor attacked you with magic?” Shadows lingered on half of his face.

“The Mayor was so powerful that I felt the energy wafting off him. He only forced me to sit in a chair but I couldn't move an inch.” She thought about the tears that were compelled not to fall until he left the room. “All I could do was watch. Then what he did to Giles..." Willow wiped her eyes. "That isn't even all of it. I think he hired vampires to attack this support group that my mom goes too. They seem to be the only ones besides us Scoobies that know about the hellmouth and I think the Mayor wants to take them out."

"It must have been very frightening," Angel stated unruffled as usual.

Willow nodded yet his blasé attitude was beginning to rub her the wrong way. It made her stop trying to remember the practiced diplomatic words and just spit it out. "Jenny has found a spell to drain the Mayor but it would have required all three of us to perform it to even try to equal the Mayor's strength. Now with Giles in the hospital, I don't know anyway around asking you this."

"What?" A thread of emotion came into his voice and worry grew in his brown eyes.

Willow stopped at the red light on a corner before she turned to Angel. "I know we all agreed that I needed to cut back on it, but I'm going to need you to let me drink if I'm going to be able to do this spell with Jenny. The Mayor has to be stopped. Giles believed he had a larger goal, we haven't figured it out, but I know it can't be good."

"No, I can't do that." Angel shook his head stepping back from her. "I'm sorry but it's for your own sake."

"My sake doesn't matter when lives are on the line, when my mother could be hurt, when there is a crazy wizard on the loose." Willow kept her voice down but she wanted to scream at him. Did he think that just because he broke up with Buffy and moved to another city that he didn't have to care anymore? He had left her in the dark and she was willing to forgive him if he did this for her, for her loved ones. She knew that she was putting him in a situation that he had never wanted to be in but what other choice did she have?

"Willow, I know that the Burning is hard, but you know, that if you can muscle through the pain then you will be free." Angel said. “There will always be evil around the corner.”

"I can start over the treatments after we defeat him." Willow thought that sounded reasonable. Far more reasonable that the thoughts that screamed through her brain. A secret fear wound around her heart. What if Angel hadn't forgotten what he had seen during that spell to defeat those reptilian demons who had wanted to consume every soul in town. He had looked into her soul. What if he hadn't liked what he had seen?

Angel put his hands in his pockets and looked into her eyes. "You shouldn't throw away all that you've gained. Why do you think that you aren't powerful enough?"

"Because I felt the Mayor's power." Willow gripped the box of donuts tighter as she felt like turning them up over his head. "Buffy needs my help and I'm afraid that my mom could be next on the Mayor's hit list. If he's fine with killing his staff then what chance does my mom have?"

"Sleep on this. Don't be rash." Angel started to walk at the green light.

"Fine." She followed him, making herself be the sensible girl that everyone thought she was, even if it make her stomach churn. "Maybe you're right. I haven't even heard back from Jenny yet. Giles could be waking up now and I'm just worrying for nothing." She looked down and steeled her resolve to show that she meant business despite being Little Miss Reasonable. "How about we both sleep on it, but expect a phone call in the morning." Willow turned once they reached the corner. He had his stubborn vampire pants on and there would be no budging him tonight. "Bye, Angel."

"I'm sorry, Willow." He said, hands in his pockets, soulful angst in the dark depths of his unfathomable gaze.

Willow couldn't stop her sigh as she shook her head. "You always are." She turned onto her street and returned home without a goodbye. Sensibility never felt so hard. After kicking the door closed and setting the donuts down in the kitchen, Willow found a note pinned up by the wall phone.

 

'Ms. Calendar called. Mr. Giles is in a coma. What is going on? -Mom'

It made her heart sink even as her determination hardened. The Mayor had taken out their most experienced and powerful magic user. He had hobbled Buffy. All he had to do was take out the support group and he would have cleared the town of those who knew the truth about him.

 

Willow heard her heartbeat in her ears as she walked into her room. Kneeling by her bed, she reached under her bed stand for her diary and pulled out a business card from the back pages. Angel wasn't the only vampire who promised her a favor.

* * *

 

Willow looked everywhere in the high rise penthouse to avoid the vampire bringing her tea. Where another person would have a living room, a spacious office sprawled under the high ceiling instead. The minimalist furniture was sparse- only a couch and coffee table towards the door and a long black metal desk by the window. White walls adorned by bare canvases splattered with cool hues of blues and grays completed the spare look. The room seemed designed to draw the eye towards a magnificent nighttime view of Los Angeles away from a darkened hall by the window that led to other rooms.

It surprised her not see any wood paneling or high backed chairs in front of an ominously crackling fireplace. It looked so modern despite being the personal abode of Franz Pieterzoon, who had once introduced himself so formally as 'in the service of Angelus, sired by Darla, of the Order of Aurelius' with a bow. She hadn't forgotten their first meeting, how scared she had been and how he had seemed like a relic from a courtly age yet still put her at ease with his civility. The key difference was that now he was no longer in the service of Angelus. He was free range evil, she reminded herself with a frown.

Naturally, she had lied to her parents to come here. For all they knew she was watching the newest Ben Affleck movie and trying to get her mind off of her mentor's hospitalization. She and her mother had gotten closer but how could she explain this to her parents? She couldn't even explain it to Franz over the phone.

"I never expected you to call." Franz said as he poured her some tea into a boxy metal tea set. He seemed far more relaxed without a suit jacket on and with his green sleeves rolled up. Even his hair was mussed and he looked as if he could use a nap but he seemed jazzed to see her. "You were evasive on the phone. What is it that you need require?"

It felt like her lips didn't want to spit it out. Asking once to Angel had put her through an emotional roller coaster, to put herself out again took more courage than she thought she had. It took enough just to call. Willow lowered her eyes to her hands and then to the red tulips in geometric glassware on the coffee table. She tugged down the long sheer sleeves of her pink blouse, wishing that she had worn something more substantial than a thin-strapped black shirt under it, and smoothed down her gray pencil-cut skirt as she collected her thoughts. Thinking back to Angel under the street light and their tense discussion, Willow still felt like fuming over Angel's refusal after he had kept her in the dark for months. What else had he not told her? She tried not to let that color what she told Franz. Willow wanted to keep the story neutral but it was hard to explain delicately about being a blood junkie. "I-"

"You're biting your lip. Don't be afraid." Franz gazed at her, intent and curious, as he raised his cup for a sip. “You're under the protection of my hospitality. No one shall harm you this night, you have my word.”

"I'm not... Not about you, but me is another story." Willow looked into Franz' gray eyes. "It's funny, being more scared of little old me than you, but Angel did something to me." She grabbed her tea and blew softly on it before taking a hot sip to stall. She hoped it would settle the fanged butterflies in her belly because her 'vamp sense' had already homed in on him. "The Lingering Kiss."

Franz nodded, surprise vivid on his features before he quelled it as he set down his cup.

"Angelus fed on me before he was cursed again. Too deeply. So Angel had to give his blood to save me. Neither of us knew what I was... Am. What I am." She sighed and shrugged. "That's why I came. I've been on this mageroyal regimen, but..." She looked away and stood up. "I shouldn't ask this of you. "

Franz' expression was inscrutable except for a tinge of anticipation in his body language as he leaned closer. "I informed you once that I would assist you any way that I was able."

"My mother is in danger and I need to perform a spell against the wizard who wants to kill her. He is a powerful man in Sunnydale who has so much experience that it was going to take three of us to take him down, but Giles is in a coma. I know that it's wrong to tempt the darkness but I can't let her be harmed and I know that he won't stop with her." She babbled, feeling herself react to his vampiric presence, more like an addict than she liked. Her mouth watered and she made herself back up while her gaze zeroed in on his jugular.

"This is about blood." Franz's face was in full shadow, his back to the window, in the dim light. "'Tis all it comes down to in the end."

"We all, Angel and the gang, agreed that I couldn't have it more than one a week," Willow nodded, ignored the beast howling within her, and sat down to appear less like a crazy person. "And now we're shooting for-"

Franz' eyes narrowed as he interrupted, leaned back and crossed his arms. "How do you tolerate it?"

"I don't think I can anymore. This has been a nightmare and I want to get off this crazy blood train, but it can be a tool - a naughty, bad, wrong tool - but I'm willing to risk it to fight alongside Buffy. I know that if I drank that I might just have the strength, if I combined it with a friend, to defeat this wizard. I'll understand if you say no." Willow ended the sentence looking at her hands folded in her lap while she wondered why he would even say yes to handing more power to a untried and probably nutty-seeming teenager. Willow couldn't face him as the hunger churned in her stomach. She concentrated on her breathing. Her skin already started to warm up as a blush raced across her face.

Franz stared at her, deep contemplation, with his eyebrows raised before the surprise faded and the slightest hint, repressed but present, of a smile. The professional facade that he used while in Angelus' employ seemed to be hanging on by a thread. Actual emotions could be seen on his face. A twinkle shone in his eyes. The Franz who watched over her in the mansion had been different from the one before her. Like the veneer of decorum was peeled away like the frosting of a choco-dile. He wasn't Jekyll and Hyde but he was definitely off the clock now. "What about biting? You must have had the dreams by now.”

Willow gasped. "How did you-?" She shook her head. "I could never tell Angel. He looks at me like I'm..." Willow looked away, before standing up, remembering the disquiet on Angel's face when he told her not to be rash. "I shouldn't bother you with this."

Franz had her by the shoulders, facing him, in a blink. "No, I can help you, one might say that I am uniquely suited to the task." A mutual intensity reflected in his eyes. "You know that you have my assistance in this matter." He let go as if shocked to be touching her before walking to his desk and pushing a button on his telephone. "Cancel all my appointments tonight."

"Oh, no, I don't want to be a bother." Willow held her hands up, unnerved by his touch, mouth becoming dry. All those fables about spiders and flies, scorpions and frogs, broke through the yearning. Why did she think that being alone with a vampire was a good idea again? She bit her lip at the next craving. Hot like a fever, Willow felt light headed. She had felt the Burning before, but it was like an echo to what she felt now. "I can come back when you're not busy."

"No, Willow, nothing on my schedule is as important as this right now. Your mother is in danger, you said." He didn't look at her for a moment, eyes lowered, shoulders tensed, until he relaxed as if understanding his next move.

Willow nodded. She remembered their goodbye when Franz's contract with Angelus expired. There had been something in his expression when his mask fell for that second revealing the vampire behind the suit and tie. Willow wasn't what you'd call a dater, she mostly lived through Buffy's breathless boy talk about Angel, but there was something in his expression that made her wonder. So much had been going on that she didn't dwell on it, she figured he had jetted off to high-flying vampire business after she had gotten home. She hadn't expected him to still be in California. The tightening in her stomach made her take a tiny step towards him.

Franz walked towards her, smile earnest, before raising his arm. "Come, it has been a fortnight, has it not?"

Willow nodded and met him halfway at the couch. "I apologize for my actions in advance." Her world narrowed to his nail as he cut his wrist.

"Never apologize." He titled his head as he offered his arm. The blood dripped thickly.

"Sorry," she breathed before grasping his wrist and pressing her lips to his skin with bruising force. The blood seemed to set her ablaze. She pulled his arm closer.

Franz grunted before saying, "Easy. I'm not taking it away from you."

"Don't." She mumbled between sucking and biting at his wrist. Willow moved closer for better access without even thinking. Lost in the blood rush, it was like an earthquake to her system. She didn't even notice sitting down on the couch and pressing against him.

"Never." Franz leaned back and laid one arm over her shoulders as the other bled.

Willow opened her eyes for the first time and realized what she was doing and she jumped off the couch, licking her lips.

"You need more." Franz opened his eyes and stood.

She backed away at his first movement but paused at his words. Willow wiped the blood off her chin with her thumb and stared at the crimson on her skin before licking it off and eyes widening at Franz's words as if he had told her that there was a left when she had always gone right. "I've never had more."

Franz loosened his black tie and then unbuttoned the first few buttons of his green shirt. "You must if you want the power to save your mother."

Willow felt mesmerized by the blood and forced herself to turn around towards the door, but she couldn't take the first step away.

He was in front of her in a second, expression solemn, defiant jut to his cleft chin. "You have been starved for months by the vampire who kidnapped you. All of your will being used to fight a craving with only a few hedgewitch tricks to dull the hunger and all your magic being focused into burning the compulsion away. Angel tied a hand behind your back. Stop letting him decide what is and is not in your best interest." He wiped the blood from his already healed wrist with his fingers and raised them. "This is what's going to save your mother and unlock the power inside you..”

"Angel hasn't-" She bit her lip and looked away.

"Don't make excuses for him, Willow." Franz said. "You need to hear what I have to say." He cupped her face with his hands and stroked her cheek with his bloody thumb. "You were a lonely child and then you grew up to be a shy girl who made herself blend into the background. You blossomed in secret. While no one was looking, you became an intelligent, brave, strong beautiful woman. You deserve more and I intend to give you more if you let me." He sounded so serious and there was so much in his tone and blood that called to her despite the alarms in the back of her mind. "The wizard you face in Sunnydale, he wouldn't happen to be Richard Wilkins?"

Willow nodded feeling overwhelmed by the sincerity in his voice. Sometimes she had wondered what had been on his mind during their time in the Crawford Mansion, but she never would have guessed this. She knew her depth and she was definitely out of it. Willow could handle the deep end but she was the Mariana trench.

"In his century of life, Richard Wilkins has committed deeds that you cannot even conceive to hang onto power. Ruthless to the deepest core of him He shan’t give you a second opportunity to assassinate him if you fail the first." Franz lowered his hands to her neck and stroked along her artery. "If you wish to defeat him, you can't be distracted by the cravings. He'll exploit your weaknesses and crush you without mercy. Even with my help, perhaps he still will." He furrowed his brow at the thought as his lips dipped into a slight frown.

“It doesn't matter that I might fail. Just that I try.” Willow shrugged before she tilted her head to the left. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and pushed away the her fears about the Mayor. She could hear her heart in her ears as she opened her eyes. "You've already healed."

"I'm older than Angelus. My blood is stronger than his." Franz moved closer. "To defeat Wilkins, we must complete the ritual."

"What ritual?" Willow licked her lips, knowing the answer, as memories of nightmares about the blood and the bite came to mind.

"The one that haunts your dreams." Franz twirled a strand of her dark hair. “Rest assured that I wouldn't dare weaken you before the spell in any way.” He pushed the lock of hair behind her ear. "I haven't mentioned it, but its a very becoming color."

Willow felt her resolve crumble, her stomach twist itself into knots, and sweat break out on her skin, as she murmured, "Make it not hurt. Angelus only did it once, but I know its possible."

Franz brushed her hair over her shoulder. His voice grew softer. "I don't relish your pain."

Willow nodded, unbuttoning her sheer blouse and let it drop to the floor, as she watched the guarded yet satisfied play of expressions on his face when he realized that she accepted.

Franz bent his head to her neck and placed a kiss on her skin. He shifted into game face, his fangs scratched at her skin, before he licked the cuts.

The pain from the cuts disappeared and she gasped when he sunk his teeth into her. Trying to ignore her riotous emotions, she soon gave in. Willow clutched onto his back and her knees buckled as he controlled their drop to the floor. Seeing the door out of the corner of her eye, the sensible Willow told herself to run, but she couldn't focus on anything except the sensations that radiated from the bite. Her knees rose up, skirt sliding down to reveal her legs, as she clung to him and arched her back.

Franz licked before pulling himself away. He panted, an unusual humanism for him, as he stared into her eyes.

Her locked fingers rested on the back of his neck. She licked her bottom lip before biting it. Sparks flew in her vision.

“Any pain?"

"No." Willow felt like all the tension had drained from her body. This is what she had been craving, what had kept her up at night, she could have cried from the joy and shame of giving into it.

He cut at his throat viciously and said, huskily, "Then take what you need."

Willow took a deep breath before she fixed herself on his neck. Pressing him closer to her, she moaned and couldn't even find the will to be ashamed as she flipped Franz over. Her body pressed flat against his.

He held his hands against her lower back. "I'll tell you when to stop but please not now."

Franz and his blood. Franz and his skin. It filled her thoughts until nothing was left and she lost herself. Willow hadn't meant to run her hands through his hair or cling to him yet she didn't stop. She had never had this much before and she could feel the energy vibrating in the air. It awoke and thrashed like an unchained beast.

The magic within seemed to bubble up and escape. In the corner of her eye, she saw the coffee table fall back against a wall and the tulips fall to the floor along with the tea set. It distracted her enough that it fully sink in that she was straddling Franz, thigh to thigh, chest to chest, as she fed off his blood. Willow panted to catch her breath, pulling away to look around and then down at him, hands resting on his shoulders.

"Never mind it. Just the coffee table." Franz leaned up to kiss her quickly, lips soft against her bloody mouth, hands on her hips, before she knew what to think, and then bared his wounded throat. “You're getting your power back.”

She let herself be pulled back under. More crashes sounded in the distance but she ignored it as she rocked against Franz, licking and sucking, at his neck.

Franz caressed up and down her back, murmuring low.

Willow felt lost yet never wanted to be found. A bang of a door sounded so far in the distance as her heartbeat raced in her ears. When she nipped at his neck, he shivered and held onto her hips tighter. Then abrupt ly, Willow found herself practically vertical again. She sighed when Franz sat up and eased her away from him with gentle hands and a satisfied smile. She collapsed against his chest, panting, still straddling his lap, and looked over at the view of glittering Los Angeles.

"Willow!"

She turned her head toward the door, the direction that Franz stared in and her heart jumped into her throat. Goosebumps spread on her skin.

Angel strode in the empty threshold on top of the kicked in door. Surprise lit up on his face yet it dimmed by the second. His gaze narrowed as his expression darkened.

Before she could process the situation, Franz had her on her feet and behind him. His face a demonic mask as he hissed at Angel. Franz's words were polite to a fault but the tone dripped with acid mockery as he reverted back to his human face. "Angel, we've never had the pleasure of introduction, but as you can rightly see, this isn't the time for visitors."

Angel vamped out, shoulders shaking with rage under his leather jacket, fists clenched. "What have you done?"

Willow shrank back, still confused as to how they all had gotten here, wondering where Angel had come from. She shook, watching the guards stream in, this was exactly what she didn't want to happen. How did he know where to find her? Worry and shame crowded out the lingering euphoria of the blood. She might have had Franz's promise of protection but she could tell that Angel was a different story. "You refused."

Angel looked around at the six men in generic black suits who surrounded him. In the dim light, the ridges of this demonic visage looked even more menacing when he flashed his fangs. He didn't look concerned about the stakes in their hands or guns on their belts. When he turned back to Willow, there was fear in his yellow eyes and it wasn't for himself.

"Begone with dignity, Angel. I'd rather this not get messy." Franz smirked. Blood dried in drips leading under his open collar. His tie hung askew. He looked like he had been ravaged.

"You need to leave, Willow." Angel ignored Franz's words despite his razor-sharp glare cutting the other vampire to ribbons. The stakes at his back didn't draw a glance from him. His tone was strained as he seemed to struggle to appear calm.

"I'm helping her when you refuse." Franz turned to take Willow's hand, clasping it rather than entwining their fingers, his voice mellowed into a warmth that she had often heard when he had brushed her hair.

She started at his touch, but didn't pull away, and her gaze darted between the two vampires. Willow winced as Angel snapped his jaws shut and stilled himself.

"Perhaps we should inquire as to what Willow prefers?" Franz looked at her, his face calm and his hair mussed and sticking up.

Willow bit her bottom lip. She thought knew what Franz wanted her to say and what Angel did, but honestly, she only wanted to be out of this tense room because exactly what she wanted was the million dollar question of the day and she couldn't figure that out with them staring at her.

Angel shook with the effort of reining himself in. "Willow. Get out of here."

"Angel, you need to calm down." She held up her hands but didn't step towards him. There was more Angelus in his expression than she liked to see, but there was still a part of her that wanted to run to him and say she was sorry that he might get killed and that he wasn't wrong about sleeping on her idea. Though, Willow knew that she might have just called Franz in the morning anyway. Then there was the feeling that scared her the most. Willow had never felt this kind of power before. Forget lifting pebbles, she was ready to move mountains.

"This is madness."

“How about I leave first so everyone knows that I'm not with the other and then Angel can go. Please.”

Franz nodded. “But of course.”

Willow picked up her blouse and purse off the floor, ignoring the looks from the guards, and fled. Without a single look back at the vampires, she strode out and pulled her blouse back on. Even as she wondered what would happen after she left, she gained speed walking down Franz's private hallway. Her breath grew ragged. The tears came as she reached for some towelettes in her bag. Pushing the button to the mirrored elevator, she flinched to see the blood dripping down her neck and scrubbed at her healed skin before tossing the towelette in an ornate trash can. Willow couldn't help but think back to how spooked Jenny Calendar had been more than three months ago as she dropped Willow off at home after an intense ritual. Jenny, Giles and Willow had aligned their souls together in a sacred circle to defeat the Chloriani demons who had tried to sacrifice Oz. Was this what Jenny had seen in her soul?

Willow adjusted her tousled dark hair and wiped at her eyes before she pressed the button for the lobby. The elevator doors opened to reveal a mirrored interior and she was left face to face with herself.


	8. Favors Repaid

Angel stormed down the stairs before punching a brick pillar in his basement apartment. He could feel his true face hovering closer to the surface. He had expected that Willow might get into trouble but he wouldn't have guessed what he had found at Franz's penthouse. Angel clenched his fists as the images haunted him. Willow pressed against Franz on the floor, blood on her lips, his touch all over her, lost to the Lingering Kiss. The worst had been Franz's smirk as Willow left the room. The Dutchman had gazed after her with eyes that burned with possession. Then Franz had turned to Angel.

“You've frightened her away.” Franz had crossed his arms, satisfaction oozing from his stance, and lifted his lips into a sneer. He had looked thoroughly debauched in the dim light and it brought to mind memories long since buried of the dark games that Darla would preside over in the murky past. Willow's scent lingered over him.

“Don't act like you've won, Franz.” Angel had took a step forward before being blocked by a human with a stake in one hand and a gun in the other. “Whatever plans that you've cooked up with Lawson, leave her out of it. She's not apart of this territory dispute.”

“Indeed not, she isn't. This is entirely personal.” Franz laughed. “Your formal claim has been dissolved by the Order. Willow is her own woman now.”

“She hasn't chosen you, she just couldn't get me.” Angel wore a smug expression worthy of Angelus even as doubt rubbed at him. Both the caged beast within and the man in control of it fell into agreement about wanting Franz dust.

Franz's smirk faded. “Don't be so triumphant, Angel, you required a curse to bind her to you. All I offered was sincere friendship and she came to me of her own accord.”

“She was desperate.” Angel snorted, but he thought back to a stray comment that Willow had made the morning after he had been en-souled. "So, I could ask Franz to pop open a vein and it would work just the same?" Angel had the uncomfortable realization that Franz could have been laying the foundations for this since the moment he had laid eyes on Willow. All that time alone together... Just because Franz had never touched her, it didn't mean that he hadn't whispered honeyed lies into Willow's ear. Why? Franz always had more than one angle.

“And whoever drove her to desperation?” Franz strode almost into Angel's reach and tilted his head. “Who tossed her to the wolves and abandoned her to suffer the cravings alone? This is as much your doing as mine. I suppose I should thank you.” Franz grinned. “Willow was delicious.” He stepped back with a chuckle as Angel lunged for him and was pulled back by the guards, another of which hit him across the face.

Angel shook off the blow. “Pieterzoon, I suppose this is about the council seat. You've might stewed for centuries after I wooed Darla and her inheritance away from you, but you won't corrupt Willow to get to me.”

“Indeed, you wooed our sire then you killed her after all she bestowed upon you. Willow is only safe in your care until you grow bored with her and find another. ” Franz's expression turned arctic. “You've done the corrupting for me already. Never would have I thought of inflicting the Lingering Kiss on the poor girl, but then again, your flair for torment had surpassed mine centuries ago.” He nodded to the guards. “Throw him out. I grow weary of this exchange.”

Angel had let the human guards drag him out but the promise of revenge remained on his face. Anger burned through him as he drove to Willow's apartment to see if she was home. Then he cut people off on the road as he returned to his haunt, before stomping through the office, ignoring Spike and Doyle, down to his basement apartment. Angel threw himself at his punching bag to let all that pent up rage out without causing property damage. Striking it in rapid bursts that would have been too fast for the human eye, he growled as he punched it hard enough to knock it off its hook and send it flying across the floor. There went the hope for no property damage.

 

“Oi, what's bunching up your knickers?” Spike asked as he jumped over the canvas bag that skidded past him to bump against a brick pillar. Behind the smirk, there was concern. He tilted his head, scanning Angel, gaze lingering on the bruises on his face.

Angel gritted his teeth and gave Spike a bitter side glance. In his mind, he was still walking into the penthouse to see Willow straddling Franz as she drank his blood. Her long dark hair didn't fully cover her closed eyes and tense fingers as she clung to Franz. A sheer blouse lay discarded on the floor. Angel could remember the sight of Franz's hands on her hips. well enough to draw them. “I know where Lawson is. He's expecting me to wait and scope him out while I'm distracted with Franz. I'm not.”

“So, we're going with plan C for crazy, then?” Doyle arrived behind Spike from the staircase. The seer looked worried, a hint of scotch on his breath, and raised his hands in defeat. “Where is he then?”

“The townhouse that Angelus bought from Wolfram and Hart.” Angel forced himself to cross his arms and take an unnecessary breath. “Willow brought me three possible locations and when I saw the address, I knew.”

“How did you reckon that one?” Spike arched his eyebrow and snorted. He patted down his pockets for his cigarettes and frowned when he found only a empty pack that he crushed and tossed in a nearby trash can.

“Lawson is trying to take my place. They wouldn't pass up on the symbolism.” Angel shook his head.

Spike frowned and the rough rock and roll guise fell as contemplation stole over his features. “What happened? Suspiciously eager for a showdown.” He stepped up to Angel. “Come home with a black eye. Won't tell us a thing. Doesn't make me want to follow you into a Burger King let alone a fight.”

Doyle pipped up. “Angel, mate, be reasonable.”

“Franz. He-” Angel growled. He had known Franz for over two-hundred and fifty-two years. When they had first met, Angel had picked a fight from jealousy after Darla had taken Franz to her bed. It had ended with him hung over a Parisian balcony but he had diverted Darla's affections in the long run. Angel had won next time they had fought over a century later. After that he hadn't considered Franz a threat as a romantic rival. Darla and Franz had seemed to grow distant long before Angelus had been souled however as Franz began hiring himself out to other masters before the Seven Years War. Angel had been more concerned about being overcharged when he hired Franz after his curse had been lifted. It hadn't occurred to him, souled or not, that Franz would be a danger even to Willow unless directed. He had been too concerned elsewhere. “I don't know what happened but I know that he had to have manipulated her.”

“Are we talking about that Willow chit and Franz? Walked in on them necking?” Spike nodded and raised a finger thoughtfully. “I thought he had a weird thing for her. Always brushing her hair and dressing her like Jackie O.”

Angel shot Spike a cold look while he could have kicked himself. He had missed too many signs. Now all he wanted for answers.

“They were literally necking?” Spike shrugged and attempted a mournful expression that looked more befuddled than anything. “Er, I'm sorry she's dead?”

Angel glared. Remembering how solemn Willow looked on her apartment balcony, when saw her through the gates of her apartment's courtyard as he walked up into the light of the garden to make sure that Franz had let her go. His demon fought to reclaim every inch of his territory from Franz and Lawson, but his soul felt weighted by the guilt of the loss. Their eyes had met but he turned from her to return to the gloom. “No, she's alive. I made sure of it.”

“Oh. So, she's gotten back to full mojo then? Why don't we have Glinda zip on down here and lend a wand?” Spike rubbed his hands. “Right. Make lemonade out of the lemons.”

“She's already too involved with this.” Angel paced before making himself sit down on a ottoman.

“And, you're hoping that Franz will be there so you can get your lumps in.” Doyle nodded as he leaned against a pillar and crossed his arms over his rumpled button down shirt.. “We're going to need more ice and scotch before whatever comes out of your mouth turns into a good plan.”

Spike pulled out a bill and tucked it into Doyle's hand. “Smokes.”

“Not inside.” Angel rubbed his hand through his hair as he leaned over to rest his elbow on his knee, trying to think of a plan when all he wanted to do was inflict some hurt on his wayward clan.

“Bullocks. And I wanted to give you secondhand cancer.” Spike joked and then rolled his eyes when Angel ignored him. “When we going to charge into the place like heroes then?”

“Sunset.”

* * *

Lawson awoke with a grunt when he heard a door crash open. The walls separating the living room from his bedroom muffled the sound yet fear welled up within him. He already knew who was at his front door.

His sire wasn't happy.

Hazy from a hangover, Lawson jumped out of bed, one sock on and in his boxers. He cursed as he wondered what Wolfram & Hart was charging him for because their security was the pits. Franz's big plan seemed to be falling to pieces. Or was it? Lawson asked himself as he ran out of his room and out into the hall. Maybe this was exactly what that rat bastard had wanted.

Angel, Spike, and some short guy were fighting through his newly made minions in the living room. No sign of his human guards from Wolfram & Hart remained. The opulent furniture was tipped over in disarray. Dust sprinkled the floor and only four of his minions were still standing. Still green as the grass outside, they were falling fast under the assault.

Angel staked a minion as he caught sight of Lawson. Rage wafted off the master vampire and there was hell in his gaze when he turned to face Lawson. There was something more personal in his hate than the last time when Angel, fueled by duty and resignation, tried to kill him in the mansion.

Three minions now. Lawson winced as two and two were starting to come together. Had Franz made a play for the girl and summoned the guards? Lawson cursed. His luck was running out and the wolves had broken down the gates. He could feel Angel's anger as he could feel his own fear.

Spike grinned at his approach.“Now, there is the git that we've been looking for.” Spike punched the minion he was fighting before glancing towards Lawson, his long jacket flowing around him and the promise of revenge in his expression. “Where is she?”

Lawson could feel the moon rising as his knees trembled. He stepped back fast, trying to figure a way out of this jam, his eyes darted around the still unfamiliar house before looking over his shoulder. “The little missus is around here somewhere.”

The short guy found himself with his arms pinned behind his back while another minion punched him in the face in rapid bursts. Revealing his demonic face, gray-green and spikey, Angel's friend struggled to be free.

“Where's Franz?” Angel staked the one he was toying without pause.

“Not here, Chief. Has his own set up.” Lawson smirked as he looked back down the hall towards the wide window, cloaked in curtains, at the end. All Angel's muscle was in front of him and no one at the rear. Maybe his day hadn't dawned yet.

“Some help would be nice!” Angel's buddy yelped.

Spike dusted the minion, before running to Lawson, fangs out and grinning with malicious glee.

Angel turned back to his friend, growling, and staked the one punching him before grabbing the other by the neck and dusting him.

Lawson took the distraction and ran down the opposite end of the hall. This house had been built for Angelus and now it was crumbling around him. He had one chance to escape and figure out who set him up. There wasn't a long list.

“Wanker!” Spike chased after him before his footsteps stopped in front of Drusilla's door.

Lawson covered his face and jumped through, thankful that the handymen hadn't started to put up those bars he had requested, window breaking around him. He arrived in the balmy night air in a rain of glass and fell into a roll. He was up and running down the street to the sedan he had hidden as an escape route. The moon had only just risen but he knew it was going to be a long night.

* * *

Doyle's eyes leaked tears as they puffed up and began to darken even faster than his pensive expression. He rubbed at his bruises. Dazed, hoarse and muffled from the swelling of his nose, he mumbled, “Thanks.”

Angel didn't respond, looking away before he cursed as he felt Lawson get farther away. He ran into the hallway to the open window and looked out to see the street empty. Slamming his palms against the windowpane, he snarled before walking into the open bedroom where Spike and a chained Drusilla kissed against the wall. “He's gone.”

Spike pulled away with a sneer. “Not for long. Baby wants to get her licks in.”

Drusilla wiggled her fingers at him and grinned. Her red dress seemed to bring out the craziness in her eyes. Anticipation grew in her tone. “The march hares gather.”

Angel nodded then met Doyle back in the living room. He tried to ignore the décor. It had been chosen by Angelus and Lawson hadn't changed it. It only pointed out his errors. Failure clung to him. All he had done was scatter his enemies. Lawson would go underground and Franz had probably set himself up with more guards in an even higher tower. His plan had sunk like a stone. He hadn't found answers, only more questions. Lawson had teamed up with Wolfram and Hart but where were their guards? All those minions felt young and of a weak Aurelian line.

The Irishman sat on the couch, wiping the blood off his face, before he stood, swaying, at Angel's entrance. Questions and concerns lingered in his eyes. “Crackerjack plan, boss.”

“How are you?” Angel made himself say when all he wanted to do was scream from frustration. He had most of the pieces but what picture did they make? It felt like he had forgotten something along the way. Was Lawson the key to the case or a dead end?

“Angel, I'm not a fan of the martial arts, honest.” Doyle grimaced as he slapped his hand on his forehead with a grunt. Hunched over, he gasped and staggered before righting himself with a curse. “Willow! She's in danger. I saw her parents tied up and her neck's bleeding as he carried her out. I think its happening soon. We gotta go now.”

They raced to the car. Angel already knew who would attack her before Doyle even described him. Lawson wasn't a dead end, he was a red herring.

Hopping into the black convertible, Angel had the car on and rolling before Doyle had a chance to close the door. “Its Franz, isn't it?” Angel slammed his palm against the steering wheel as he turned out of the driveway and into the night. “Bastard planned it somehow. I knew it was too easy to get into his penthouse last night.” Angel sped through a red light. “And we're practically across town.”

Doyle made the sign of the cross as he looked at the speedometer.

* * *

Sheila picked up a fork and spoon to set by a plate when she heard a knock at the door. The scent of the seasoned vegetables were making her mouth water. In the background, the evening news played low on the television. This would be their first family meal in the house after they had finally unpacked and gotten settled in. There were still knickknacks to be found and socks lost along the way but the move had been as stress-free as those things could be. They hadn't said anything but both Ira and her were trying to make a new stab at family dinners. This was one more step to their fresh start. The apartment was snugger than the house in Sunnydale, but Sheila felt sure that instead of filling their home with material possessions, they would fill it with love this time.

The knock on the door was louder this time.

Ira looked at her from his place at the wok, where he was scoping veggies into a bowl, before wiping his hands. He shrugged, raising his arms, sleeves rolled up, before answering the door. “Hello?” He was partially covered by the kitchen wall.

“Hello, I have urgent news about your daughter, Willow. May we come in?” A polite voice, crisp with the tones of learned British English, asked from out of view.

“Sure, what's this about?” Ira asked as he stepped back.

A shiver went up her spine. Sheila dropped her silverware and turned to say no, but it was too late. She had read that time slowed down in dangerous situations but the seconds only moved quicker as she heard Ira grunt. Then hell broke loose in their home.

Ira flew back with a thump on the floor. His body crumpled as his glasses fell to the floor. He slumped over, hand on his head, as he tried to get up. His face red under his mustache.

“Secure them.” A blond man, handsome and in a designer suit, ordered as he walked into the apartment. Posture perfect and hair immaculate, his cold eyes looked around at the place before he settled on Sheila. Contempt radiated from him. “And, you're the parents, I presume?”

 

Two men, faces deformed like the ones she had seen attack her support group, followed behind him and grabbed her husband. Suited, they wore ear pieces and stayed silent.

Sheila opened her mouth to cry out to warn Willow but the man in charge had her pressed against the wall with a hand over her mouth and one around her neck. Looking into his gray eyes, she saw no mercy and thought of Yvette's story. Was this a man or a monster? She knew that Willow was listening to music with her headphones on ever since Ira told her to keep it down and probably hadn't heard a thing yet. Heart sinking and fear rising, her eyes darted towards the hallway despite her efforts.

He nodded as his face turned into a horrific mask before he smiled icy and confident. His tone rang out with triumph. “I already know she is home.”

Sheila's stomach dropped as she realized that he wasn't human. She started to open her mouth to cry out. The world seemed to be going faster than her heartbeat.

His face shifted back to human before winking at her. “None of that.”

The cry died in her throat.

The blond monster in the suit pushed her towards one of his men, who came for her, grabbed her by the shoulders and forced her to the dinner table. His hand was like an icy vise as he kept her in his grip while he pulled rope from his pocket. She watched Ira, head lolling, be forced into a chair on the other end of the table. His captors had him tied up quickly. Her rapid heart beat sounded in her ears and she wondered if this would be the last thing she ever saw.

She struggled and tried to scream but a hand clamped down hard on her mouth before another gagged her. Sheila struggled against the ropes even as she choked on the cloth in her mouth. She watched the blond stride towards the hallway and disappear with all Sheila's hopes.

Ira, gagged, face red, woke from his stupor and threw himself against the table. Screaming under the gag, sweat dripped down his face as he raged. His eyes were round and scared.

Sheila rocked in the chair when she saw the man in the suit walk out with her daughter in his arms. Tears rolled down her face as helplessness consumed her. This was her baby, the one she swore to protect above all others, and she couldn't break free to rip Willow away from him. The ropes bit into her arms as she struggled. They had told she would be safe in Los Angeles. They told her it was over. Now, Sheila feared that it had only begun for Willow.

“As you await rescue, I suggest praying that you never see what your daughter is reborn into.” When he walked back in with her daughter in his arms, a smirk turned up the corners of his mouth while his hands clutched her tight. “She shall be beyond mortality and morality.”

Willow looked unconscious. Blood dripped down her neck from puncture wounds so similar to the scars that ringed her neck. Limp in the monster's arms, her demin-clad legs dangled like doll's.

Sheila cried out, muffled by the gag, as Ira struggled to turn his head towards him. Ira knocked his chair over in his impotent fury as he tried to yell. His glasses fell to the floor.

“Leave them.” The monster in the suit nodded before walking out with Willow as the other monsters trooped out of the kitchen and closed the front door before they left.

Sheila fought against her bindings but couldn't make them budge. She could hear Ira's muffled cries and screams on the floor. All she could think about was Willow's pale face. In moments, the monsters came into their home and in moments, they left, destroying their lives once again. Sheila let the tears fall as she finally sagged against her bonds. Her daughter was gone.


	9. Beyond Mortality and Morality

Chapter 9: Beyond Mortality and Morality

Willow felt the rolling of the car before she realized where she was or whose lap her head lay in. The hint of masculine cologne lingered in her nose. Her eyes were still hooded and hazy in the dim light. She sat up and rubbed her head, wincing at a sudden pain on her neck, remembering only that she had been surfing the web with her headphones on. Had she fallen? She opened her eyes, turned her head, and saw Franz. For a second, she still thought she must be dreaming. She had never been afraid of him before but fear pushed away the dizziness as she jumped back, wondering what had happened to her parents. Pressing herself back against the car door, she looked around the limo she was trapped in before she met his eyes. “What is this?”

“Most likely close to whatever you're thinking. But, never fear, your parents are unharmed.” Franz looked like the picture of calm but she knew that it was only the illusion before the storm. In a white button down shirt and black slacks, he looked casual (for him) and victorious. His coat lay folded up on the opposite seat in the limo. They were alone but for a single red rose in a small vase by the mini-fridge.

“You're going to deliver me to Lawson then?” She asked, chin up, as Angel's warnings flared up in her head. “I guess you're back on the clock and I belong to him now.” Willow shook her head. She had brought herself into the spider's den and now she was caught in his web. There was something about the phrase, 'Angel was right', that rubbed her the wrong way but she couldn't help thinking it.

“Heavens no.” Franz shook his head still smiling as if he was about to give her a gift. So familiar but it felt like a slap. “No one owns you. In fact, I'm going to set you free tonight.”

“Well, then I'm good. Better than that. Great. Just drop me off here and I'll find my way home” She nodded, fear settling into her stomach like a punch, as she reached for the door handle and jiggled it. The cravings were weak, since she had fed the night before, so as she grew more scared, she couldn't react to his vampiric presence with anything except primitive panic. Willow tried to think of escape plans or smart retorts to stall, but she hadn't gotten to car fights in her self-defense class and hadn't gotten up to punning 101 in Buffy's impromptu slayer school for civilians.

“I don't think so. The door is locked and can't open until we stop.” Franz leaned closer, a touch of sadness in his eyes, as he brushed his fingers against her cheek.

Her lip trembled, betraying her, as she shook her head. “You said you would help me save my mother.”

“Richard Wilkins has power forged from the darkest rituals that a human can perform. Even with my blood giving you strength, it's still a risk. I couldn't tolerate the notion of him killing you.” Franz shook his head. “I apologize.”

“So, you're going to kill me instead?” Her tone came out harsher than she expected yet Willow couldn't regret it. If there was ever a time for back talk, it was now.

“Trust me, when you wake up again, you'll thank me for this. Remember, in this and all things, I do not relish your pain, never in all the time that I have known you. I want to spare you from the past and the future. You're unique, Willow, and I only want to preserve that. My world is a brighter place with you in it.” Franz gazed at her so earnestly. “I do so hope you forgive me. I do this only out of pure sentiment. No maliciousness.”

“You want to get back at Angel for some reason.” Willow shrugged and a tear fell from the corner of her eye. Flashbacks of Spike came to mind when he had attacked her in the Crawford Mansion. She wrapped her arms around herself as she remember freshman year when Buffy had fought Darla. That was their only real connection that she could think of. “Maybe its because he killed Darla. I don't know. It could be only another Aurelian intrigue, or you just don't like his face, but you don't need to dress it up like this is more.”

Franz wiped her tear away with his thumb before cupping her cheek. “My agendas are numerous, I can not lie and soon, I will already have what I want from Angel. What was rightfully mine — a council seat. You, my dear, were a surprise. It was if we had met before.” He stared into her eyes as if searching before dropping his gaze and smiling sadly. “I missed you after I had departed Sunnydale.”

“So, I was like an unexpected bonus in your scheme that coincidentally enough added insult to Angel's injury.”

“Essentially, if you prefer the bald truth.” He tilted his head as his voice turned softer. “You were quite unexpected after all these years.”

She shook her head. Why couldn't this be a nightmare? From his gray eyes to his cleft chin, he didn't look scary or like he wanted to kill her. He only looked as he always had yet who was underneath the facade? The Franz that she knew must have been an act. Or she had never known him at all. “No, please no.”

He pressed a finger to her lips. There was something fragile in his expression. “Don't beg, Willow. It's already been decided. I've seen what kind of woman you are and I know what you can become.”

She bit her lip and looked down, trying to see if there were any pointy objects around. She had only good stand by trick, except besides for some rose thorns, she had nothing to work with. Willow tried to think of another spell and all that came to mind were herbs. “Franz... no.” She threw a punch before stomping on his foot.

He caught her fist. “No one to save you here, but me.” Franz reached for her shoulders and pulled her to him. “Please, I can make it quick and painless as before.”

Willow tried to headbutt him. All she could think about besides, 'oh god oh god I'm going to die,' was how useless those self-defense classes were against a vampire of real power. She stared into Franz's eyes and knew that she wasn't just going to die, she was going to come back a vampire. This was what she had been scared would happen. Late at night, she wondered about her picture laying in some Aurelian bureaucrat's file cabinet. Everyone had told her that it was over and she would be safe. She had known they were wrong.

All that power that Jenny was afraid of and she didn't even know how to use it. Those baby steps everyone told her that she needed to take were really helpful. Emphasis on the sarcasm. Now, the nightmare was real and all the mundane tricks she had learned hadn't been worth a damn while the only true power she had was beyond her reach. She kept trying to fight back, punching at his torso.

“I'll escort you to the other side.” Franz forced her head to the side and bit, licking the bite. “ It won't hurt,” he said before sinking his teeth in. His hands caressed down to her back.

Willow cried out, but she couldn't move as her limbs grew heavier with every gulp of blood he took. Sparks flickered in her view. The numbness spread from the bite down her body. The craving rose up despite her fear. Her whimpers became silent as she fell back. The only sound was the slowing of her heart. Spots grew in her vision as the limo dimmer. The ritual was complete, she thought, as the tears fell.

Franz laid her down and lapped at her wound before kissing it. He sat up and licked his bloody lips. He smiled at her and brushed a lock of hair from her forehead. “Welcome to eternity, Willow.” He cut his neck before putting his hand under her neck and raising her up. He set her mouth against his wound.

The Lingering Kiss, even so close to death, reared its endlessly hungry head and consumed her. This was what the whole ritual was designed for - a cocoon for metamorphosis. She succumbed to the blood in the end. Tears mixed with the blood as Willow latched on. The world faded as she drank. Her arms hung useless at her sides. Only Franz's strong arms circling her lower back kept her up. Willow heard the last beat of her heart like a echo in a long, empty, dark tunnel. She didn't see her comfortable suburban life flash before her eyes, she only knew the terror and pain of the moment until it was over.

* * *

Angel ran up the stairs to the apartment and kicked it in without pause. There were only two heartbeats in the place and both of them pulsed fast with fear. If he had been at his office when Doyle had the vision, he would have been here far sooner but LA traffic made it slow going across the city. Angel couldn't feel Willow in there.

As the door swung open and banged against the wall, he knew he was too late. Except for the bleeping of the smoke alarms, the room looked normal, as the TV played and the furniture stood upright, until he looked into the kitchen area. Like a mockery of a family meal, the Rosenbergs were tied to chairs, empty plates set out, as Asian-style vegetables burned on the stove top. Rushing towards Ira Rosenberg on the floor, picking him up and pulling the gag out of his mouth, Angel checked for bite marks or wounds. Neither of them smelled like blood but there was a hint of Willow's in the room under the stench of burnt stir-fry.

Doyle hurried inside to turn the stove off with a curse and threw the wok into the sink. His mouth hung open for a moment as he took in the scene before he roused himself to action again to turn off the alarm.

Ira's eyes were wide and the pain seemed never ending. He looked like a man without hope. “She's gone. He took her.”

Angel untied Ira. He knew the answer but he had to know for sure. “Willow was taken by who?”

Doyle unbound the crying Sheila Rosenberg who flopped into his arms when she was free. He patted her on the back and murmured low, his brogue thicker from emotion, as he looked to Angel for answers.

“She's gone.” Ira shook when he was unbound. He looked at his trembling hands before curling up the long fingers. Self-loathing simmered in his eyes. Missing his glasses, he squinted around the room. “I couldn't do anything when he took her. Her own father and I could do nothing.”

Sheila wailed. “My baby.” Standing up, she pushed Doyle away before going to her husband and falling down to put her head in his lap. “Ira.”

Ira stared ahead, still lost in a void of despair, dropping his hands to his sides.

Angel backed away to give them privacy as he mentally went through his contacts and who he could shake down to get more information. This couldn't be over. He wanted to think that she had magicked him into dust but he knew their only hope was that Franz would keep her alive. Angel thought about that possessive look that had flashed onto Franz's face last night at his penthouse. They had little time to spare.

Doyle strode to him and turned his back to the Rosenbergs. “This is getting heavy, but they don't look physically hurt.”

“Franz only wanted Willow.” Angel felt frozen as he looked at the burned dinner and the weeping Rosenbergs. It felt like they were a day late and a dollar short.

“We didn't save the girl, boss.” Doyle looked back at them before turning his swollen face towards Angel. “I'm going to call the cops.”

Angel's mind swirled with the idea of Willow dead and in Franz's hands. One thing was certain, Willow wasn't going to stay dead in his care. Franz wouldn't have gone through all this trouble to only kill her.

Doyle got on the cordless phone and barked the address to the operator. “There has been a break in and an abduction.”

“It doesn't matter.” Sheila said brokenly. “Men didn't steal her away. Monsters did.” She stood up and turned walked to Doyle before taking the phone out of his hand and pressed the handset to her chest. “You're paranormal investigators. Get her back. Now go.”

Angel nodded and gestured to Doyle to leave. As they got outside, Doyle turned to Angel. “What was that, mate? Did we walk right into a bait and switch.” He shook his head, biting his lip, guilt turning his usually twinkling eyes solemn. “Those people lost their daughter in there. She's really lost this time, Angel. That Franz is a cold piece of work, always two steps ahead of us when the whole time we think he's just the middleman.” Doyle rubbed his bruised faced as he leaned against the black convertible. “How are we going to be the big flashy heroes now, Angel?”

Angel looked down. He had no wise words to offer.

“I'm stumped, Angel, I'm stumped.” Doyle sniffled, breathing through his mouth, his nose had already puffed up and his eyes were circled with black. The beating that he took had finally taken its full toll. His shoulders sagged. “They expect us to bring their only child back and make it right.”

Reaching out to lay a hand on Doyle's shoulder, Angel tried to remember how to console when all he could feel was hot rage and cold worry.

“I don't think I can do this anymore.” Doyle shrugged him off and stepped away. “Maybe if you had came later to LA, I might have gotten the hang of this seer gig. Maybe if I had been more ready in the scrap at Lawson's haunt, we might have gotten him and already made him spill about Franz. Traded them. Had a shred of leverage to get at that weasel.” He threw his hands up. “You had let Lawson go to save me, Angel. You don't need me dragging you down and letting on like I'm not mucking around in the background until a vision comes along.” Doyle turned but didn't open the car, instead he walked down the street and started towards the intersection.

“Doyle, stop!” Angel watched, yet another person he had failed, leave his life. He rubbed his temple as he wondered if Doyle would be better off, safer, with or without his protection. It hadn't done Willow much good. “Where are you going?”

Doyle called over his shoulder. “I'll let you know when I have a vision.”

“How are you getting home?”

“I'll find my own way.”

Angel looked down and closed his eyes for a moment as he tried to tramp it all down.- all that worry, fear, and guilt. He couldn't fall into self-indulgent pity now. He jumped into his car and wheeled himself out of the small street. Now with Doyle gone, the task before him was more daunting. He was alone, his connection to the powers gone, and no slayer in sight. The blood pounded in his temples as his demon roared at the trespass on his territory. Angel could have howled with him. He had brought Willow into his world and then had promised to led her out. He had failed. All he could do now was find her to either save her or put her to rest.

* * *  
Giles lay still under blue blankets, IV tubes attached to him, his complexion washed out. The slight rise and the fall of his chest kept time with the beeps of the machines. He didn't have a private room but it was as silent as if they were alone. Those eyes that had watched her for so long were closed and no one knew when they would open.

Buffy sat by his bed with a hand over his and looked over him until the nurse forced her to leave. She hadn't said anything as the thoughts piled up in her mind. The Mayor was walking free as Giles languished in a coma. She had gone from three witchy people for backup to two under her watch. Buffy had been reading the slayer's manual but there was little about what to do when you're watcher was incapacitated except contact the Council. After how useless they were when Merrick, her first watcher, died, she wasn't all that eager to give them a ring. Leaving the room with one look behind her, Buffy found Ms. Calendar waiting for her in the hallway.

“They told me that this was one hit to the head too many.” Ms. Calendar stood in yesterday's clothes, hair pulled up in a messy ponytail, bleary eyes red-rimmed from tears. She had stayed in the waiting room all night. Her purse bulged from protection amulets and charms that Xander had dropped off earlier.

Buffy nodded, feeling ill. She had heard the play-by-play of the Mayor's attack and just thinking of it made her grit her teeth and try not to cry. All she could think about was how she hadn't been there, preferring patrol to seeing Ms. Calendar. She couldn't regret it totally because she had saved a group of people, including Willow's mom, but shame about her pettiness had lingered. She had been so caught up in what Ms. Calendar had neglected to tell them about her past that she hadn't thought of what the teacher had done for them in the present.

“They think he will wake up but it will be awhile and he'll be confused for a couple of days after.” Ms. Calendar looked ahead, sniffling, as she spoke, “They aren't sure what the Mayor damaged but the doctor said he'd never seen anything like it.”

“Me neither.” Buffy hadn't ever seen Giles seem so still and thin and frail. He was always a bastion of tweed, ready with an obscure fact and dry observation, whenever the going got tough.

“We're going to need a new watcher sent out.” Ms. Calendar frowned.

Buffy shook her head. “No, they would replace him and I'd have to break in a new one again.” She smiled wanly as she decided something that would have been anathema to her before. “One Giles is enough.” Buffy raised her chin and made herself put the past behind her. If she could forgive Angel then she couldn't hold that from Ms. Calendar anymore. It was the least she owed the teacher. “You told me once that your people sent you here to watch Angel. How about you watch me while Giles is out of commission?”

Jenny nodded, smiling through her sadness, clearly touched. “We still have the spell to do and with Willow's help, I think we can cut The Mayor down to size.”

“We have to.” Buffy's voice fell flat and resigned as she rubbed her upper arms. The Mayor had declared war and she would finish it.

 

* * *

Willow rolled over and tried to stay asleep, her head pounded and her stomach rumbled, but the sound of the ocean and the city were too strong. Did she leave a nature documentary cranked up? Sea salt lingered in the air.

Did her TV have smell-o-vision now?

She pushed herself up, not a single lamp was on but the moonlight streaming in from the glass doors was bright enough for her to see that the color and texture of the bed's sheets - white and far softer than her own - were all wrong. Willow looked around at the strange room. It was bigger than hers, walls green and furniture white, and she was alone in it. She wore a flowing black cotton maxidress with a white border on the hem. At this moment, she would have thought she'd be scared but she was only curious. Instinctively, she knew that her heart didn't beat but she couldn't remember why.

There wasn't a television on or in the room, but it sounded like the ocean was crashing at her feet. She padded towards the glass doors, its heavy drapes tied back, to gaze at where vines grew thick on what looked like a living wall that jutted up, disconnected, from a wooden deck. It blocked the brightest rays of the moon.

It was like she had fallen into a Celine Dion music video.

She pulled the doors open and stepped outside. The moon hung like a thin sickle in the sky yet she could see every petal on the sleeping roses. Willow reached out to smell one and it was like a perfume bottle exploded. A presence sent shivers down her spine and she turned.

Blood.

Franz walked into the room with a bottle in one hand and two wine glasses in the other. He had left his suit jacket behind and his cuffs were unbuttoned while his feet were bare. The metallic tang in the air told her that there could be only one thing in the bottle. He paused to look at her. Much more than what he had seemed before, there was an aura of power around him. No wonder he tried so hard to blend in.

And he had seemed so unassuming once.

Willow smiled and felt herself pulled to him. She could feel his blood rushing through her veins as sure as she could hear the Pacific. Distantly she remembered all that fear that her human self had suffered through, when all she had done was trade up in the ecosystem and toss away that mortal insecurity. Faster than she thought possible, she was in front of him. Willow remembered it all now. He was her sire. “So, this how the other half lives?”

He set the glasses and bottle on a circular table in the middle of the room. Running a hand through her hair, he looked at her for a moment in silence, smiling. His expression, usually so guarded, lay open, joyous and triumph, to her scrutiny. Franz wasn't trying to blend in anymore.

Willow leaned into his touch. “I'm like you now.”

Franz kissed her quick but firm. Gazing at her, he brushed his thumb along her lips, warm to the touch, her blood flowed through him too.“I told you that I would give you what you deserved.” He pulled away to raise the bottle before pouring a glass and handing it to her. “Now, drink before the hunger sets in.”

“More.” Willow took the warm glass and downed the blood, it eased the chill she felt in her bones, relishing the essence that exploded onto her tongue. “Please.”

“Always.” He poured another before pouring a glass of his own. He toasted her as he grinned. “This is the first night of forever, how ever do you want to spend it?”

Willow pulled him to her and kissed him on the lips before giggling. “I don't want to spend it a virgin.”

Franz chuckled. “Neither do I.” Kissing her deep, he swung her up into his arms and carried her back into the bedroom.

* * *


	10. Magnificent Predators

Angel lifted the air vent covering up and out of place before sticking his head down from the ceiling. He had a stand-off with Franz here only the night before but by the empty room one wouldn't have guessed it The lights from the city were bright enough to glimmer on the bare floor. Not a single piece of furniture remained in the penthouse. There was nothing to do but crawl and seethe back from whence he came.

When he returned back to his apartment, Drusilla waited for him in his kitchen. He slowed, wary, as he wondered where Spike could be lurking.

She raised her eyebrow when he opened his mouth to speak. Clad in black silk that blended with lace into a wispy dress that draped her neck to foot, Drusilla's eyes were luminous and her hands were out in a gesture of peace. “Her soul is drifting in the tide. Our Vicious Darling has been reborn like Persephone, yet she swallowed all the seeds, so never will she return to her mother.” She lifted herself on her toes and kissed Angel on the cheek. “We always did have so much love and so much blood.” She glided past him.

He slumped down at his table. Drusilla wouldn't lie about this. Franz had turned her. Mechanical and numb, he stood up and went to his corded phone on the wall before typing in a familiar number. Angel leaned back again the wall and screwed his eyes shut. “Buffy? Its about Willow.”

* * *

Naked and wearing aviator sunglasses, Willow tipped her head back to look at the moon. She squinted, moon seeming almost too bright, before she gasped, walking from behind the vines and seeing the Pacific ocean stretch to the horizon. She could see stars through the smog and shells on the briny beach. The water lapped against the sand but it sounded like waves crashing in the tide. Franz had classical music playing lightly but she could hear it like she was wearing headphones. Her senses were amplified like she wouldn't have imagined before. A smile lingered on her face as she sat down gently in a wooden chair. It was only after they broke the bed that Willow had understood how strong she was now. There was so much that felt so different but she didn't feel like a different person. She just felt new.

Franz padded out to the deck in a dark silk robe. Even he looked different in the moonlight as if she hadn't ever seen him clearly before. His blood called to her as ever. He paused to take in the sight of her.“Now, aren't you a picture.”

“They ought to put me on a postcard.” Willow tipped down her sunglasses as she leaned back in the chair and smirked. “Does this feeling last?”

Franz smiled as he sat down on the chair next to her. “Which feeling?”

She pushed her glasses over her head, moonlight still a shade too bright. “This feeling of euphoria. Like nothing can touch me. I just want to run and bite.” She looked at him through her eyelashes. “Not only that, of course.” She caressed his face. “Is this how you see all the time?”

“Ah, the joys of youth. Yes, you'll feel like a magnificent predator at first.” Franz nodded before taking her hand. “Every sense will be heightened and you'll understand that you had never truly experienced the world before.”

She shivered, raising his hand to her lips, she kissed it. The old Willow would have analyzed her every action but now she only wanted to relish this new existence. Live as she hadn't before. The world felt as new as she did. “What about touch?”

His eyes darkened as he kissed her fingertips. “That as well.”

“How does this feel after four centuries?” She ran his knuckles down her cheek.

He let his eyes droop closed.

She stood up, pulled him to her naked body, and pushed his robe off. Every sensor in her body when off as the feel of him against her. “And this?”

He kissed her and cupped her face. “This is only the beginning.” He kissed her again. “I'll show you worlds you never imagined before.”

“I never got to thank you.” She wrapped her arms behind his neck. Gazing into his eyes, she thought about how upset her human self had been about being turned into a vampire. Now, she wanted to laugh at the absurdity.

 

* * *

Buffy sat at the library table with her head bowed as Jenny leaned on the door frame to Giles's office. Since she had gotten Angel's phone call, Buffy's tears had demolished her mascara as she tried to comprehend. Giles was still in the coma and Willow wasn't just dead, she was a vampire. Angel had laid out the bare clinical details that Willow had been killed in front of her parents and that all signs pointed to vampage. Buffy fought vampires six nights a week but she still had trouble with the ones she knew when they were human. It was just unfair. Willow had escaped the hellmouth but the demon drama caught up with her. It made Buffy's stomach lurch when she thought of her friend's face morphing into that of a demon. Her throat tightened at the thought of never seeing the real Willow again.

Xander walked in, baggy jeans rustling as he whistled, binder held against his bright yellow shirt. He puffed out a confused note as everyone turned their heads toward him. He gestured with a binder in his hand. “What happened?”

Ms. Calendar tilted her head against the door frame. She had straightened up her hair since they had returned from the hospital and gotten some coffee in her, but the teacher still seemed to be sagging from the strain and lack of sleep. Tears streamed down her cheeks. She put her arms around herself, mouth open and searching for words in pained shock, a white tissue dangled from her hand like a flag of surrender. “Xander, I'd sit down.”

“Who is it?' Xander asked, voice quiet, eyes lowered and wary, his shoulders tensed, bracing himself. His eyes darted as if he was going through a mental list of friends and family. “Who?”

“I'm so sorry.” Ms. Calendar blew her nose.

“Who?” Xander yelled, dropping his binder, as he strode closer. His voice became choked up and his face red. He screwed up his eyes before looking away. “Don't tell me its her. Just don't tell me it Willow.”

Buffy's face crumbled as she shook, nodding, more tears joining the rest. She had never felt so lost. Willow had been her first true friend in Sunnydale who had stuck it out with her through hell and high water. When she found herself confused and hurt, she would always know that she could pick up the phone and Willow would be there. Now, Willow was her enemy.

Xander turned to the wall, punching it, before falling forward and catching himself. His voice was tight and broken. He didn't turn his head. “How?”

“She was turned into a vampire.” Ms. Calendar covered her eyes. “By a vampire named Franz Pieterzoon, one of Angelus' buddies.”

Xander's blows echoed in the silence as he continued punching the wall. “Right.” Xander sniffled, wiped his eyes, and took a deep breath. “You know what we have to do.”

* * *

Holland Manners smiled, leaned back in his chair, bags sagging under calculating blue eyes, and he interlocked his fingers. While his gaze was serene, a vein bulged in his forehead and there was little doubt to long-time observers that he was anticipating his regular lunch of pepto-bismol and a protein-shake. “I believe that covers all the scheduled topics. I'll open the table before we adjourn for lunch.”

Lilah Morgan lifted her chin and put her most poised expression on, letting her curly bob fall back from her face. There was risk in delaying and aggravating the ulcer that all pretended to ignore, yet Lilah had never been able to resist a good gamble. She had kept this hand closer to her chest than most to make sure that neither Lindsey MacDonald or Franz Pieterzoon got a whiff of it. “Sir, on the topic of Angel, the souled vampire, I have a suggestion.”

Holland Manners nodded as eyes around the table darted to the clock.

“Our bodyguards for the vampire consultant Franz Pieterzoon have reported an interesting exchange that I believe could be useful. For those not up to date, in our dealings with the Order of Aurelius, one of the concessions was that the human Willow Rosenberg be absolved from any claims by Angel. Pieterzoon turned the woman only days ago.” Lilah picked up a paper with transcripts of their surveillance on it and passed it toward the head of the table. “While the girl has tried to sneak out to hunt and pleaded to be taken out, Pieterzoon is still worried about Angel who he thinks doesn't know about Rosenberg's condition.” Lilah smiled as she came to her ace in the hole. “Angel isn't just aware, he has shut down his office and his connection to the powers has abandoned him. This girl means something to Angel.” She paused to let the implication sink in.

“And your suggestion?” Manners nodded as he considered her words while scanning the transcript.

She laid her cards out. “I think that he should see her to twist the knife in. Our men can allow her to escape and make controlled contact with him.”

“Mr. Manners, I must disagree with Ms. Morgan.” Lindsey MacDonald gave her an indolent flick of his eyes before focusing on the man at the head of the table. His Texan twang dripped with condescension. “Mr. Pieterzoon is a long-time valued client who is providing a valuable service to our firm. This could damage our relationship with him and lose him as a resource. In any case, he has already informed us that he would be needing transport back East to be our liaison to the Order. He'll only be in town for a few more days, how do we know she will try to get out?”

Lilah interlocked her fingers on the table, consciously adopting Manners' pose, maintained eye contact with her boss. Ignoring Lindsey, she awaited the opinion of someone who mattered.

Manners nodded as he listened. A hint of a Machiavellian smile developed while he processed both arguments. “Lindsey while that is true, Lilah is looking to the long term. We only have a few days to see how this girl might affect Angel and Lilah's theory has enough merit for me to allow her the chance to test it. There are prophecies at work and we want to muddy the waters as much as we can.” He stared into Lilah's eyes. “This is your... special project. You're responsible for its success or failure.” Wolfram & Hart's idea of responsibility was enough to make the room grow cold. Holland Manners smiled as he allowed the tension to mount.

* * *

Willow zipped up her black jeans before looking at her lack of reflection in the mirror out of habit. She was hoping that the navy blue camisole bring out her pallor yet the mirror betrayed no trace of her. Willow carefully dabbed on some lipstick before kissing the mirror. Now, there was. She fluffed up her hair and steeled herself for what she was going to do. Franz kept saying no to hunting, he said she wasn't ready, but she wasn't going to let that stop her this time. Willow had already spent enough time pent up in a room and that wasn't how she would spend the rest of forever. She had no illusions on how he would react to her disobedience but the night called to her. He was off on business and it was maddening to be cooped up with these human guards that she couldn't even nibble on.

Going into the bathroom, she stepped onto the closed toilet and then onto the tank before opening the window and squeezing out. They had found her last time when she tried the sewer exit. She hoped that above ground would do the trick. It wouldn't take them long to figure out she was gone but she wanted to at least be able to get a gulp of night air in before she was dragged back to face the music.

She pulled a key out of her pocket before hopping into the spare car and hauling ass out of the driveway. Flipping up the radio and putting on her sunglasses, Willow sped out of the neighborhood.

The Los Angeles night-scape felt like a kicked wasp nest, vibrating with life. Driving became a whole new experience as she slowed down and let herself get lost in traffic. She had only been looking to get far from Franz's beach home when she found herself getting closer and closer to Angel Investigations.

After parking in a darkened strip mall, Willow pocketed the key before she began to run. The scents and the sounds of the city whizzed by her as she raced over the city blocks in the sheer pleasure of movement. She slowed as she came to Angel's building. Looking up, she saw that the light was on in his office. Willow picked up a rock and tossed it up as she thought. As bad ideas went, this was one of the worst but she couldn't help but think of the morning before she escaped the Crawford Street mansion. The memory of that first conscious taste of Angel's blood hadn't died with her. She chucked the rock at the window.

Angel opened it up and looked down. Their eyes met. Much like Franz, he too had an presence to him that was so much more than it had been when she was alive. His strong jaw tensed as his eyes scanned the street and nostrils flared as he sussed out that she was alone. He stared shocked to stillness.

She waved at him. “Missed me?”

* * *

Angel gritted his jaw when he saw her. He had been expecting to see with his own eyes that she was a vampire but he wouldn't have thought that Franz would let her out so soon. The sounds of the city were muted as he strained to find a noise that he had missed more than he thought. His heart twisted when he didn't hear her heartbeat.

Willow looked so happy and alive as she waved to him from the street. Standing with confidence and grace, she looked up at him. Her navy camisole didn't cover all of the blue veins that already marbled her pale chest and arms. Stolen blood made her cheeks flush as she smiled. “Lets play a game.” She blew him a kiss before turning and running down the street and turning the corner.

Angel jumped down from the second story, falling past the dentist office, landing on the sidewalk before giving chase. The urban jungle seemed to spread wide open in front of them. The night air tousled his hair while the excitement of the hunt grew within him despite his efforts.

With only the occasional look behind her shoulder, she led him through darkened alleys, fenced in yards with dried patches of grass, and parking lots where plastic bags drifted in the breeze. The focus of the world narrowed onto her, the swing of her dark hair, the near silent tread of her feet, smile lingering on her lips. They were panthers in a world of mice during those fleeting moments.

Smelling of honeysuckle and newborn vampire, he could have tracked her with his eyes closed but he couldn't help but wonder what she was up to. Was this another game courtesy of Franz or had she come up with one of her own? Angel jumped up onto a dumpster then onto the roof of a row of boutiques to survey Willow from above. She might have been fiery and young, but he knew all the old tricks.

With a feline's poise, she turned into a small walkway between buildings that only looked like it had a exit but a small gate closed off the back. Her first and last mistake.

He could have crowed in triumph if he hadn't remembered what his duty. In the thrill of the chase, he had forgotten what he had sworn to do. What Franz had pushed him too. Angel jumped in front of her, taking up the cramped space, to block her. The closer proximity only made him see more of the old Willow in her and more of how she had changed.

Willow stopped and backed up. She still maintained the charade of breathing from habit. She bit her lip. Franz had been keeping her fed. Blood flushed her white cheeks. Her dyed hair glinted black in the moonlight. When she spoke all illusions of the past were shattered. “There you are. Thought I'd lost you, I was beginning to be a little disappointed.”

“What are you doing, Willow?” Angel could feel the stake in his pocket but he hadn't brought himself to end her. Too many questions and regrets prevented him. Willow was his latest mistake and he couldn't tear his eyes away.

“I'm out for a little fun. Its like I can't keep still.” Her eyes were wild. Blood flowed hot in her veins like millions of fledglings before her when the world was new again and drenched in red as the hearts pumped louder than speech. Demonic jubilation at her own dark rebirth.

Angel remembered it well. He had slaughtered his whole village in malignant joy on his first night until Darla had dragged him into a root cellar before the dawn. There was little hope to believe that her hands hadn't ended innocent life yet. The human Willow would have been aghast, he thought. “I'm sorry this happened to you.”

She shrugged. “I'm not.” She studied him before seeming to come to an internal decision. “I'm only sorry about all that time I spent as a scared school girl worried about what other teenagers thought of me.” She swayed in the tight space, almost mocking his defensive stand, before rolling her eyes. “I could have turned them into goldfish but instead I wrote a dramatic, overblown blog.”

“You were a good person.” Angel insisted, not fully understanding what a blog was.

“I was an alright person with a extraordinary friend.” There was an evenness and mellowing to her speech that as a human she didn't have. Willow shrugged. “Then I wasted my own talent before being predictably betrayed by Franz. He was right in the end. I did thank him when I woke up.” Her smile turned wicked in a way that looked wrong on Willow's face. “Besides, what did you even know about my human self?” She had to tilt her head up to stare him down but she made him feel small. “Willow Rosenberg was only Buffy's shy friend to you before Angelus decided to kidnap her to spite Buffy. You kept me as a trophy pet and acted out some psycho dramas occasionally before getting your soul again.Then after making poor little Willow a junkie, you made yourself scarce. Don't act like you knew Willow Rosenberg.” Willow stepped closer to him and took his hand, placing it on her neck where he could feel the raised scar of his bite. Her skin felt cool and soft under his fingers. “You can get to know me though, I'm practically her in every way.”

“Why did you come to me tonight?” Angel knew that he should have already staked her but the stake remained in his jacket pocket. There was something about her that made him pause. Watchers liked to think that the demon took over the body completely and eradicated the person who existed before. More often than not, the demon brought out those deep buried dark traits that people tried to hide everyday to fit into society. But Angel couldn't believe that this was Willow Rosenberg despite her words.

 

“Because I never got to do this.” She looked up into his eyes before cupping his face and kissing him, rough and dominant.

Angel wished he could have said that he let go first but he only deepened the kiss. His hands ran down her back to press her body against his and he remembered the night that he had drank from her and how warm she had been. The stake dug into him while they embraced. He ran a hand through her hair. Slipping his tongue between her lips, he didn't know if he could even let go.

Cold and strong, she pushed him against the wall and arched her body against his. “I used to dream of this. I'd call them nightmares but I'd enjoy the fantasies of our blood, our bodies, before I woke up.”

Angel took her hips in his hands forcing her inches away as he fought to maintain his control. “It was the blood, not you.”

Willow kissed him again, hand still on his chin, before laughing. “Like I never dreamed about you before Angelus made his reappearance. I felt so guilty at the time but I still woke up with a smile on my face.” She raised one knee up, leaning it against the wall, blocking him in with her hips. “The vicarious thrills I'd get from Buffy's breathy stories of teenage love with a vampire. Anne Rice, eat your heart out.” She giggled. “After you fed the old me, all I thought about when I looked at you was how good you tasted.”

Angel sucked in an unnecessary breath as she shifted against his groin. “Don't say that about her.”

“I'm just saying what human Willow was too frightened, shy, timid to say. She didn't want to be your girlfriend but that doesn't mean she didn't want you.” Willow cocked her head to the side before she laid a bruising kiss on his lips. “There comes my bodyguards now. Franz keeps me on a short leash. Metaphoric usually.” She backed away, smirking, and blew him another kiss before stopping in mid turn to place her finger on her chin as if in deep thought. “You said you were sorry, is it just because I'm a vamp or because Franz got there first?” She sprinted away towards a black SUV that pulled to a screeching stop. The doors opened and professional men in expensive suits stepped out. Willow paused to look at him before stepping inside.

* * *

Like a cold shower, the air conditioning of the beach front house made the blood in Willow's veins stop boiling. The stupidity of her nighttime jaunt had lingered on the fringes of her mind but she had pushed it away in favor of the fun. Now she had to face Franz and explain herself. While he hadn't mentioned Angel much, Willow knew that there was bad blood between them and she still had decided to mack around on her sire's back. In her defense, it had seemed like an fun idea at the time. She stepped into the entry way through the large living room and into the bedroom where Franz waited for her. It was less amusing now.

He sat on the bed with a red decanter in his hand, wearing a white undershirt, black suspenders hanging down, with his boots and suit trousers still on. His tie hung loose and untied around his neck. He took a gulp of what smelled like blood and whiskey before setting it on the bedside table. Franz waved the guards away and waited until the door was closed behind them before he said, “You went out without me.”

Willow made herself not bite her lip before shrugging. “I was going crazy in here. I felt like a house cat needing to chase some birds.” She took the near empty decanter from him before taking a swig, wanting the taste of Angel out of her mouth, wondering if he could smell his rival. “Not the best first walk around by myself, admittedly, what with Angel finding me and wanting to stake me.”

Franz stood up and took her by the shoulders to stare into her eyes before taking the decanter and hurling it at the wall. It cracked, drops of blood dripped from the red splash on the green paint, as it fell to the ground. “It smells like you dug your claws into him, pussycat.”

She nodded, fear building up, as she tried to get her story together. “He did chase me around until your bodyguards found me.” She looked at Franz's hands on her shoulders before locking gazes. “He chickened out on killing me, instead apologized, before going on and on about what a good girl with a nice personality that I was.”

“I don't believe you. “ Franz raised her chin. “You're getting better at lying, however.” He brushed his thumb over her lips, gray eyes cold, his voice was low and quiet. Putting his other hand on her waist, he brought her in closer to him. “He could have killed you and he will if he gets the chance. Only one of us will think about you after you've crumbled to dust.”

“You're my sire.” Willow took his tie off him before wrapping her arms around his neck. The blood in her called to him and she could feel his mood darkening further. There was so much that he could teach her, she couldn't alienate him, being a vampire was trickier than one might imagine. “I need you. Angel is barely even my past, he was always Buffy's, you're my future.”

He tapped his thumb against her lips as he furrowed his brow. Rattlesnake fast, Franz ripped her blue camisole's strap before striking in a bite that sent shock waves from her neck through her entire system. He pushed her onto the bed.

Willow screamed and wrapped her legs around him as she hit the sheets.

Their mouths met in a bloody kiss before he reached behind his head to pull off his undershirt. He scratched at his throat and beckoned her forward.

She latched onto his neck.

“Don't run away again,” Franz murmured as he rubbed her back and clutched her to him.


	11. Induction

Stars above them and sand below, there wasn't another soul on the beach when they stepped from the limo. Franz said his first sentence of the evening before striding past her, his expensive Italian shoes sinking in the sand, his suit jacket flapping in the breeze, without a look back.

Willow stared after him as his words sunk in before her feet strode along side her silent sire even as her mind froze from shock. They walked towards a rocky outcropping that looked as if it had jutted to the sky once until the sea had rounded it smooth. She looked to her shoes, grateful she wore flats, before following Franz to a thin path around the boulders.

Dark waves crashed against the earth like grasping fingers as they inched their way along a slender, slippery trail over rocks and seaweed. If she had been human, she would have shivered. The black silk of her dress only wafted in the breeze and soaked in the surf. Willow hadn't asked questions during the three hour car ride or when Franz had dropped the bomb about their evening's plan, but a question nearly burst from her when they made their way back onto drier land.

The outcropping turned out to be horseshoe-shaped and hiding a small beach spotted with pebbles. Wind whistled through a narrow cave where torches flickered on either side of the entrance. Only one vampire, back straight and game face ahead, witnessed their descent into the gaping maw of the cave.

Willow reached for Franz. Instinctual, she held his hand, her thumb rubbed his skin in an absent minded gesture, before she had time to wonder if he'd rebuff her. The sins of last night hadn't faded and weren't forgotten.

Franz looked to her, smile breaking through his barriers, and squeezed her hand. All the anger and tension between them felt erased in that moment. He had given her a new life and now he would give her a new family.

The wind picked up, swirling her skirts around as she took one look behind her before following Franz. She had been expecting this even before death yet it was still a surprise so soon after her rendezvous with Angel. She had awoken next to a laid out a note and black dress, flowing yet tapered, that Bettie Davis could have strutted on a forties-era red carpet in. The had note told her to dress and await a limo. She hadn't learned what Franz had in store for her until after she stepped onto the lonely stretch of beach.

The sand muffled their steps yet the roar of the ocean echoed around them. Nervous, she tried to keep it off her face even in the gloom of the cave. An aura radiated from within. It lingered, gritty and familiar, on her skin.

Franz spoke for the second time that evening. His cultured voice bounced off the cave walls. The professional veneer slipped, gray eyes intense, and emotion sneaked into his tone. “In the past, this cave would have been lined with members of the Order, silent as their graves, overwhelming in their power. You would walk alone as I had so long ago.” He tightened his grip on her hand as he stopped. His other hand ghosted over her face in hesitation. “This lovely mortal facade would be hidden behind the demonic.” Wistful eyes stared into hers before he let go of her hand.

She shifted face not daring to speak.

Lifting his fingers to her forehead, he ran his thumb along the ridges of her brow as if he couldn't help himself. “The Order calls it a curse yet I find that a mask is a most useful thing. Arm yourself with it.”

Tilting her head, Willow returned to her human visage. She would have expected more anger, not the hint of sadness or the hope, in his expression. The waves crashing along the shore sounded like a heartbeat. It made her think of the girls she had been: the precocious child, the dutiful daughter, the best friend, the hacker, the Scooby, the vampire's pet, and then the girl that the others evolved into. The one who didn't survive. Willow wasn't that girl anymore. Franz had made her someone else.

Franz pulled away to continue to walk as he began to unbutton his shirt without removing his blazer. He ordered, voice commanding in a tone far removed from the one he used with her, and clapped. “Torches.”

The torches came to life. Light flooded the cave to reveal defined stalactites and flapping bats. Empty sockets gazed at her from skull-filled niches. Moss grew over painted symbols mingled with aged blood spatters on the walls. The tunnel had widened into a chamber marked by a single rounded altar of smoothed granite that rose mere inches above the sand. Symbols the color of blood and pomegranates crisscross the stone. An old myth about the god of the underworld and a goddess of spring came to her mind.

Flapping like a flying pouch of disease, a bat swerved within a few feet of her head. The residue of an old phobia gripped her as she fought the urge to jump. Willow followed Franz with a single swat at the bat. She hoped he hadn't noticed.

He turned his head to smirk at her and held out his arm. Franz waited for her to entwine her arm with his before leading her farther into the earth. “No warning would be given before the torches blinded you. In front of you would be the masters and behind you the minions, they would close in and the force of the crowd would push you to the stone's edge.” They stepped onto the low altar. “The Old Master would have stood in judgment.”

“Where would you have been?” She flicked her gaze up.

He cupped her cheek. “Right here.”

“Can I still be inducted into the Order without a vamp line up and all the judging?”

Franz nodded. “Meaningless pomp.” He pulled her dress sleeves off her shoulders before pulling out a small vial and unstopping it. Hints of blood and consecrated oils scented the air. He began a low chant in Latin and anointed three lines, faintly red, onto her chest and collarbone then a circle over her heart. Flickering torches glimmered off the slick oil. Franz scratched himself on the neck to smudge his blood on her forehead. “All that matters is the paperwork and the blood in the new Order.”

Willow rested her hands on his shoulders, thumbs hooked under his open shirt and suit jacket, before pushing them off. “What would happen next?”

“Certainly not this.” He pulled her close and kissed her.

 

* * *

The days after Willow's death passed in grief and silence as Sheila and Ira grew wrapped up in their own separate pain. There were none of the measured and logical discussions on the proper ways of grieving that characterized the early days when Willow had been kidnapped. They would look into each others eyes and see so much pain reflected in their depths. Words couldn't have expressed the weight that seemed to drag Sheila to the ground. She had tried to explain about vampires to Ira but he only looked at her with hollow eyes before shaking his head. After Sheila went to Mr. Angel's office, she tried to explain what she had learned with Ira but he would walk from the room without a reply. She wanted to yell, 'we'll have to stake her,' but the words were too horrible to leave her mouth.

Ira seemed lost in a world of black and white movies and would only budge from the couch when she brought up the 'v' word. That left Sheila to make the phone calls and deal with the police. She was almost grateful for it. Sheila spent so much time rushing around just so she couldn't linger on the memory of her last sight of Willow, pale and limp. She felt like she was bursting from the knowledge she kept bottled up. Sheila couldn't even tell her mother the truth about her granddaughter. All she could do was sob as her mother tried to comfort her on the phone from across the country.

She thought she would scream until finally she announced that she was going to go to the support group that evening. The time and dates had been shifting around since the last attack but she knew that the dark had already taken all it could from her.

Ira roused himself off the couch to agree. It was a surprise to hear him speak. He would finalize the sale of the house while she was with Yvette. The ride to Sunnydale was silent and he dropped her off outside the clinic with a large hug that took her off guard. They hadn't touched since Willow had died.

“I love you,” Ira said before kissing her.

Sheila watched the car pull away and wondered if she had her husband back again.

 

* * *

Lilah Morgan stepped into Holland Mather's office, shoulders tensing up even as she maintained a neutral expression. Her 'special project' had been tested and signs pointed to success but at Wolfram & Hart, there wasn't any guarantees. “You wanted to see me sir?”

“Well, yes, Lilah, I have the latest reports on your special project and I'm impressed.” He stood in front of the expansive view as he turned his gaze to her. “You got to the heart of the matter. Angel spent the better part of last night following her around before an impassioned embrace ensued.” He held up a manila folder and pulled out a picture. It was the vampire with an mouth open and eyes full of dark emotions. “Taken right before Willow Rosenberg was found and returned, unharmed. The conflict is clear.” Holland shrugged. “Pieterzoon wasn't pleased but he seemed to accept your apology after you replaced the human guards with vampires. All in all, I'd say it was a success.” He dismissed her with a nod before saying, “Oh, and Lilah, stall the transport Lindsey is arranging for Pieterzoon. ”

“What about the reformed Order? Pieterzoon is shaping up to be a major player.”

Holland smiled. “The Order died decades before its Master did. His spawn are merely battling over the remains. Sebastian or Matilda have less than a dozen centuries between them and countless upstarts scheming in their courts. They wouldn't dare fight over a delayed flight.” The smile evaporated as he nodded a dismissal. “We still have use of the girl.”

 

* * *

Ira walked upstairs after he had signed the papers and given the keys away. He had lied to the realtor that he would lock up before he left. Ira Rosenberg opened up Willow's room. Ghosts seemed to cling to the walls as he could see his little girl at her desk doing homework or reading on her bed. Ghosts were all they were. Willow was dead and she would never return, no matter what tales that those paranormal investigators spun for Sheila. Ira believed in monsters now, but it was useless. Willow was gone and nothing would change that.

He reached under his long shirt for the holster strapped to his hip that he had hidden in the dashboard compartment until he had dropped off Sheila and kissed her goodbye for the last time.

 

Like an avalanche, the depression had rolled over him in a white wave of despair since that night. He had tried so hard to save his daughter, prepare her for the world, and it had all come to nothing despite all his promises. She had learned to shoot and to fight, but in the end, it didn't matter. All those guns had been useless when he had been tested. Those men had caught him barehanded and Willow had been the one to pay the price.

His father told him after his brother's funeral that the cruelest cut in the world was losing a child before their time. Dan had been in his forties when he had died in a car accident, but Willow had barely begun in the world. His father hadn't told the truth. It was beyond cruel to see Willow die before him. At least, his father had two other sons. Willow was his only child.

Ira had tried to sleep the first night but all he dreamed about was Willow's small still form and the blood dripping from her neck. He hadn't slept since. Coffee and bourbon kept him awake as he had watched all their favorite movies. It still hadn't kept the nightmares at bay. He would turn his head towards the door and it was like he could relive the horrible night all over again. Even looking at Sheila would remind of his failures. Ira raised the gun as he stepped onto the balcony.

Ira had no more hope. When Willow had been taken the first time, he hadn't been able to comprehend the pain of days going by without her and it was all new so he could imagine that it could get better. Not now. He knew what was out there and he saw with his own eyes that she would never come home. Until he died, he would always hear a knock on the door or hear the telephone ring and wish she was on the other end but she would never be.

He couldn't tolerate this planet anymore. Once he had wanted to unlock its secrets, he had been like Willow, so full of questions and life. That had been snuffed out with Willow.

He closed his eyes as he put the cold barrel to his temple. Forcing himself to think of the good times, he remembered the first time that Willow had seen snow. She had been four and still tiny for her age as she spun and played in the fresh snowfall. Sheila had been so pretty that day with her cheeks red from the cold. He loved them both so much. Ira felt so much shame that he would be leaving Sheila alone but she had always been the strong one.

They had been so beautiful as the pure snowflakes fell about their shoulders.

Ira took a deep breath and pulled the trigger.

* * *

When he found Sheila Rosenberg in his front waiting room, Angel didn't know what to say. He nodded before gesturing her into his private office. Certain that she would demand an update on the case, trite vague phrases came to mind while he tried to not think of the truth of how he let their chance to put Willow to rest slip from his fingers. What could he say? That he had gotten a good feel for the case and even some of her lipstick on his collar? Angel sat down and waited for her to speak.

“My husband shot himself yesterday.” Her voice was quiet but the pain in her tone was loud. Facing him with wet cheeks and stubborn chin that quivered from grief, Sheila didn't take a seat. Nervous tension made her pace. “I am alone now and I will be leaving California soon.” She dropped her eyes and seemed to steel herself in an expression reminiscent of Willow. “I need to tie up my loose ends here. Willow has become a vampire and there isn't a cure. Yvette has told me that much. I know that she wouldn't have wanted to be that way. ” She pulled out a photo of Willow and placed it on his desk. “I'm willing to pay you up to a thousand dollars to take me along when when you track her down. I should be the one to do it.”

“It?” Angel knew he wasn't going to like the sound of whatever would come out of her mouth. This was a woman on the edge from loss and there was no telling what she might be capable of or might get herself involved with. There was more mother-daughter resemblance between her and Willow than ever before even through the despair on Sheila's face.

Sheila turned her eyes up to him. Sheer will seemed to power her as she straightened her back and stilled her pacing feet. “I brought her into this world. I should take her out.”


	12. Body Count

Angel managed to close his mouth as he processed Sheila's declaration. Mussed and frantic, her shirt buttons were done up wrong and some of her hair escaped her bun yet the intensity in her brittle gaze kept him silent. When she had walked through the door, he had expected her to request an update on the case. He couldn't have imagined Ira's suicide or that she would want to wield the stake herself. Raw determination and will filled her fragile tone. He knew she meant every word. Angel's eyes darted to Willow's picture. A redhead in a yellow shirt and blue overalls smiled back from a county fair with Xander and Buffy playing skee-ball in the background. Even in a still photo, life infused her from her blushing cheeks to waving hand. The Willow he saw two night ago couldn't be confused with that girl. The girl he had had failed even after death. “You shouldn't have to do that. There are other ways.”

Sheila shook her head, steadying herself on the chair, voice growing hoarse. The ferocity waned. Dark bags hung under her eyes which she closed for a moment before answering. “I wouldn't have another soul do it.”

He nodded without argument as he understood. That didn't mean that he would let her do it. There was too much that could go wrong with a human in the mix. Even Doyle had trouble keeping up with him and holding his own against minion vampires. Franz wouldn't be as sloppy as Lawson.

“Is there a cure? Was Yvette wrong?” Sheila leaned forward, palms on the desk, as she asked in a flat voice, “Can you bring my daughter back to life?”

“Not exactly. There are rumors, um, that is-” Angel wet his lips and didn't meet her resigned gaze. He tried to explain without giving himself away. While confession might have been good for the soul, yet he didn't think that Sheila learning of his true past with her daughter would help any of them right now. That being the case, he knew he had to put the option on the table despite his own uncertainty on if the cure was better than the disease. Sheila deserved more than that shred of truth, Angel knew even as more guilt rolled over him. “Some have said that the soul can be returned to the body. Unfortunately she'll still be a vampire, but she will have control again. Its-” He trailed off as he saw her whiten and her expression grow more horrified.

Sheila gasped before backing up as her hand rose to her chest. “You will do no such thing, Mr. Angel. Even if that were possible and weren't sacrilege, what kind of life would she lead? Would she ever know peace? See the sun?” She shook her head before covering her eyes with one hand for a moment. “I've never been spiritual, despite catholic school and Ira's best efforts, but I want to hope that Willow is finally beyond it all in a better place.” She bit her lip, choking back sobs, and wiped her eyes. “In a better place with Ira. I don't want to drag her from that to a world where she is a monster with blood on her hands.” Sheila took a deep breath. “Call me when you find her and there will be another thousand in it for you.” She walked away as she said, “I'll bring my own stake.”

Nodding, Angel couldn't speak as he watched her leave before closing his eyes. He dipped his head and rubbed his temples. He didn't know if he was disappointed or relieved that the responsibility was out of his hands. Maybe it was because, in the end, Angel knew that he might have to do the deed anyway. Opening his eyes, his frown deepened as he looked down at Willow Rosenberg.

Sheila had forgotten her photo.

* * *  
Spike swaggered down the stairs into Angel's darkened apartment before slowing as he saw the other vampire. From the dust on the magazines on the coffee table in the waiting room and the epic basement funk, Spike reckoned that Angel was settling in to make a hermit of himself again. That redhead chit must have gotten under his skin. The one that got away or some rot. Spike had told him before that one didn't matter considering all the other human happy meals that he had saved but the grand poof had only glared at him out of the corner of his eye. “Evening, sunshine.”

The vampire sat at the kitchen table, sketching, and only lifted his eyes to Spike for a moment before grunting in reply. Angel continued to draw on the pad.

“Having a party down here then, I see.” Spike said dryly as he strode up to Angel and looked at the portrait with an arched brow. “A pity party in memory of Willow. All this because her mum dropped in?”

“Go away.” Angel moved the pencil to shade along her jaw.

Spike rolled his eyes. Typical Angel brooding spilled blood of the innocent. Not like the bird wasn't still walking around. “Quit kicking yourself over it. Not like you turned her. Kidnapped, yes. Her mum forgave you, for hell's sake. Why don't you?”

Snapping the pencil, Angel didn't raise his eyes. “Sheila doesn't know.”

“Even about your being a vampire? Albeit, a soulful poof of a vampire.” Spike had another clever one liner when Angel shot him a look that made him take a step back. The soul might have been in control but the demon wasn't far from the surface. Spike raised his chin, regaining composure, before he sighed. “What are you going to do then?”

“Find Willow before Sheila does.”

Spike arched his eyebrow. “You're doing a crack job of it.”

“Go away.” Angel growled as his eyes flashed amber.

“Come off it, look mate, I'm only here because of what you've done for me and Drusilla.” Spike pulled out a pack and then a lighter. He slowly raised the lighter to the end of his cigarette, waiting for Angel to bitch about smoking inside, before sighing and putting it away. This was bad. “Rotten spot of luck with the girl, but she wouldn't want you to be moldering down here. You'll turn into a mushroom.”

“How would you even know what she wants?” Angel sighed.

“Good guess? Girl was a card carrying member of the Scooby gang, probably wants you to be saving a couple of kittens in her honor.” Spike shrugged and rolled his eyes. There was no accounting for taste. “I can tell you that very few women want some weirdo to be sketching her picture in a dank basement by himself surrounded by medieval weapons. Its what they call a turn off.”

“Then illuminate it for me. How can I improve the situation? I've either repulsed everyone that I care about or gotten them killed. Then I failed to stake a whelp I turned barely fifty years ago before Franz swooped in and turned Willow. My seer is gone and I'm going up against a huge law firm in addition to the Order.” Angel pushed away the sketch pad and kicked the chair behind him as he stood up to face Spike. “Come on, then, give me your wisdom.”

“Only need two things.” Spike tilted his head. “Revenge. Whiskey. Killing him won't fix it, but it'll feel bloody good to see the bastard crumble to dust.”

Angel looked away as he said, voice tight, “She would still be a vampire.”

Spike didn't need to even ask who 'she' was. Drusilla had already told him about this little development. Couldn't say he was surprised. Never was much love there even from the first time he saw Franz. The bloke was always too quiet. Spike thought back to the winter of 1883 when he was sitting by the fire, polishing Angelus' boots, as he had grumbled to himself about being stuck in the house for the night. Franz had been visiting Darla on the behalf of the Master so he was forced into dutiful fledgling mode.

Spike hadn't really known much about him besides that Darla had turned him in bloody windmill around some tulips or some rubbish. He had only been the unruly childe of a madwoman so while important guests were around, he had been ordered to keep his eyes lowered, mouth shut, and hands busy. In a brief spat of obedience, Spike had listened to Darla and kept his mouth closed, but he kept his ears open. A commotion was brewing above him and he concentrated on focusing his hearing to get the juicy bits.

Franz had stepped down the stairs.

Spike looked at the other vampire through his fringe.

A bruise blemished his cheek and he was straightening his collar. The look he shot behind above was filled with a cold calculated rage before Franz composed himself in a moment.

Spike had bent over and kept scrubbing the boot. Nothing had come of the incident and Angelus had smacked him on the back of the head when he asked later. He had forgotten it but when he had heard about Willow that memory came to him. Franz was the kind of tosser who liked his revenge glacial.

“I couldn't kill her.” Angel rubbed his eyes with his left hand before shaking his head. “Did the exact opposite. Then I let her escape.”

Spike raised his eyebrows and nodded as he imagined Angel and the redhead having a go behind Franz's back. Must have been some soul-sinking, ball-tightening stuff to have gotten Angel so wound up. “Marvelous. I guess we know now that its just happy sex that you can't have. Angry guilt sex is still a go.”

“No, she just kissed me...” Angel looked away and frowned as guilt and frustration furrowed his brow. “For a couple of minutes.”

“Ah.” Spike clapped Angel on the shoulder. “Lots of muck getting on your angel wings then. Lets get pissed and start a few fights while looking for Lawson, eh? I got a lead on how he wants to escape.” Spike grinned. “It'll get your mind of your troubles, mate.”

“If he hasn't already left town.” Angel leaned against the table and looked down at his sketch pad. Doubt and gloom darkened his gaze. “Besides I heard from one of Doyle's connections that Franz might come to a certain club on Sunset. He heard it from a bouncer who heard it from a busboy.”

“And you scoffed at my lead.” Spike smiled since he knew he had the Poofer right where he wanted him. The tosser was willing to take any harebrained lead. “Lawson hasn't skipped town yet. Like I was saying, I know a bloke at the docks who saw him sniffing around looking for a shady ride out of the country. No dice for the sailor yet unless I tell my man to make the deal.”

“That's nothing to go on.” Angel threw up his hands.

“Its more than you had before.” Spike knew that Angel wouldn't disagree. A spot of violence would set the giant poof to rights again or at least, Spike would get to kill Lawson so either way it was a win for him. “Meet me tomorrow night after your busboy lead pans out.”

* * *

Willow didn't know what to think when Franz took her to the nightclub. She had dressed in one of the retro dresses that he preferred before putting her hair up in a bun and allowed some tousled tendrils to fall free. Tongue-tied for the first time since she had died, she waded through the crowd of humans beside him. They had been bonded closer than ever by ritual yet she had been walking on eggshells around him. Sneaking out and seeing Angel had drove a wedge between them that even her induction to the Order of Aurelius hadn't sealed. She knew he was still mad at her because he hadn't done her hair in a week. In the mornings, he only got up, put on a robe, and walked out without a single word until nightfall. She had figured that she'd get some kind of horrible vampire punishment the morning after her rendezvous with Angel but instead he had only given her the cold shoulder.

It was silly yet she had hoped that their ritual in the cave last night would have made their relationship evolve past it. Her first morning as a Aurelian had only differed from the one before when Franz told her that they were going to a night club. Willow didn't feel guilty about kissing Angel, but she did worry that Franz had found out. Kissing Angel had been intense and she would have gladly done a lot more if her guards hadn't caught up. In hindsight, it was stupid and done out of boredom because either of them might have staked her afterward.

The music blared in the club as he held her hand and led her to a table along the wall. Everything was white in the club while vanilla-scented smoke twined through their legs. Oblong sofas and tables of varying heights lined the walls while the dance floor was as full as the line to the bar. The music and lights were almost overwhelming. He nodded towards the dancers as they took their places in the shadows. “They all look delicious don't they?”

Willow nodded. Unsure of what to say. Unsure of what he wanted or what she should do. If only vampires had a manual like slayers did.

“Any of them would satisfy that hunger inside you.” He shrugged his shoulders, clad in a light pin-striped blazer, and straightened his cuffs. His expression remained flat and neutral even as his eyes scanned the crowd with dark intent. “They bleed so easy that killing one is hardly taxing.”

Willow could hear all the heartbeats over the music. His words were making her hungry.

“But, killing needs little instruction. Killing is simple. Hunting is difficult. One must know how to make one of them stray from the herd. In these modern times, the task requires finesse.” He took her hand and led her to a table. “Its more than just feeding. Stay here and watch me.” He smiled as if putting on a cordial mask. “Try to control your senses.”

Ordering a drink from a go-go booted waitress, Willow sipped it and watched him over the salted rim. He got a drink at the bar and started a conversation with a redheaded woman in a peach cocktail dress and black hoop earrings. Willow concentrated on trying to hear him instead of the music. He played the role of a friendly if cool Hollywood-type well and it seemed to be just what this model-slash-actress was looking for. Nothing too forward and nothing too bold, Franz let her think that she was seducing him and let her take all the moves while subtly pulling the strings.

Willow pursed her lips and arched her eyebrow as she took a sip. The set up seemed so familiar to her but she didn't have long to reflect on Franz's lesson when she felt a set of eyes upon her.

Angel stared down from the catwalks that crossed the dance floor.

She raised her glass to him before looking to Franz who was turning around and walking out with the human. He nodded to her before disappearing into the crowd. Willow drowned her glass before taking off after Franz. Eyes still on Angel. She rushed through the club before sniffing out Franz and the woman in the parking garage nearby. Franz was biting her in a shadowy corner near the car. Willow stepped up and tapped him on the shoulder.

Franz kissed her before directing her to his bite marks. “That's where you bite when you're looking for a quick meal.”

Willow shifted face and sank her fangs into the woman's neck. Most of the blood was gone but Willow felt almost warm when she turned, to kiss Franz, letting the body drop. Angel would catch up to them soon, but Willow couldn't help but feel frisky with all that hot blood inside her. “Take me home or take me here.”

Franz laughed and opened the car door. “Patience. There is one more surprise.”

They sped out of the parking garage, passing Angel, before turning onto the street. Franz quizzed her on what she saw him do and how she could translate that into her own hunting as they rode home.

When they walked inside, Franz turned on the light to reveal an attractive man tied up in the middle of the living room. He kissed her on the neck. “Surprised? He's yours. Now, you cannot say that I never escort you anywhere.”

Willow stalked towards the human, ignored his caterwauling and listened to the blood pumping through his heart, smiling she stopped in front of him and shifted face. Grabbing his hair with one hand, she jerked his head to the side and fell into his lap as she drained him dry. Straddling him, she brought his body closer so she could suck harder on his neck. She let go of him when she heard his heartbeat stop. Licking her lips, she stood and turned to Franz.. Even after becoming a vampire, she had worried that she night still have a moral crisis with murder but she had already forgotten her victims. Pulling Franz into her arms, she closed the gap between them.

* * *

Angel ran after Willow but a security guard stopped him and asked him what he was doing up there. Angel had to fumble his way through some inane excuses before hurrying out the club. There was little doubt in his mind what Franz was doing with Willow now. They would be killing that poor woman and Willow would have blood on her hands. He rushed into the night air before taking in the scents. He turned towards the parking garage as a hint of blood reached his nose.

A racing car barreled towards him. Its screeching tires echoed off the cement.

He jumped out of the way to see Willow and Franz inside as it peeled out of the garage. He locked eyes with her for a moment before memorizing the license plate number. The scent of blood grew stronger. Knowing what he would find, he sprinted over to the scent. He couldn't help but wonder if this wasn't just for Willow. Franz had wanted him to find his victim's body.

The redhead woman looked like a puppet off its strings as she sat slumped over with her legs straight out. There was no heartbeat to be heard. Willow had finally cut her fangs. An innocent had paid the price because he hadn't been able to break from the kiss and finish the job in that alley. Without a second to mourn another victim of supernatural crossfire, Angel ran to the man at the cashier booth on the far side of the garage and told him to call the police before racing back to his car. He tried to chase after Franz and Willow but he lost them in the stop and go idiocy of LA traffic. It wasn't a total loss. He had another clue. They were heading towards the ocean in a silver Mercedes-Benz with Virginian plates.

A ridiculous thought came to him as he pulled in next to the De Soto in his building's parking garage. A small childish part of himself scoffed at the idea that Spike's dock buddy would lead to as much as his source at the nightclub. Angel didn't smile but for the first time that night, he wasn't frowning as he got out of his car with the intent to run Franz's license plate number. And Spike had thought that his bus boy lead wouldn't pan out. Angel still didn't know what he would do when he found her, but at least now he was on the right trail.

* * *

Doyle stumbled into Caritas despite trying to maintain a level of cool before the bouncer. He had been on a solid binge since he left Angel in West Hollywood. The last time he had felt this low and cowardly, he had been walking away from the slaughtered victims of the Horde. He had been craven to help them and he had been too late to help save Willow. Doyle knew that he wasn't a hero but he hadn't wanted to be useless. There wasn't a karaoke machine in sight and a DJ played on the stage. Sighing, he laid a wrinkled couple of dollars on the bar as he looked around. “Where's the Host?”

The bartender shrugged as he wiped the counter.

“This seer needs some seeing too. Where is your boss?” Doyle rubbed his eyes. Desperation rolled over him. He hadn't had a vision since he saw Willow die. Where were these powers when he needed them? He decided to take a drastic measure and began to sing at the top of his voice. “Come on, Eileen, oh, I swear he means, at this moment you mean everything to me!”

“I get it, buttercup.” The green Host appeared behind him with a drink in his hand and a frown on his face. His vivid yellow suit and patterned purple shirt made Doyle dizzy. “I could hear the psychic anguish from the backroom! Ramone, give this guy a beer on the house.”

“Then I reckon that you see my problem.” Doyle grabbed the offered glass and took a gulp.

“Loud, clear, and off-key. You're off more than the wagon. You're off your path.”

Doyle shrugged. “Cut off, I am. Powers aren't talking to me.”

“They will if you return to your post.” The Host put a friendly hand on his shoulder. His compassionate red eyes locked gazes with Doyle. “You're more heroic than you give yourself credit for. You'll see that in the very end.”

 

* * *

Jenny was erasing the board when Xander walked into her class as the last student left after the summer school bell rang at noon. The air conditioner was off the fritz again and she couldn't wait to get home where she had a fan and a rental video waiting for her.

He closed the door behind him. Dressed in black, from his shirt to his denim jeans, except for the silver cross on his neck, Xander looked like he had a sleepless night if the darkness under his eyes were any indication. The usually joking mouth laid taut on his solemn face.

She looked at the clock, frowning because she knew this could get ugly, hoping without confidence that he just had a computer problem. She feared they would have another repeat of their last argument. “Hey, Xander, you're going to miss your bus. There isn't a late bus in the summer.”

“I know. Don't care.” He put his hands in his pockets. “You've been recharging your magic batteries for the spell against the Mayor, huh?”

Jenny put down the eraser. “Yes. But, if you're going to ask again-”

“You have the power to give Willow her body back!” Xander shook his head and shrugged. “You said sleep on it, I tucked myself in with the notion and when I woke up this morning, I still couldn't see a better option. I'm not at all cool with my friend going Dark Shadows but we can at least try to give her soul back. You know she wouldn't want a monster to be wearing her face.”

She turned to look at him and put her hands on her hips. Last night all she could think about was Willow and how tragic her young life had turned. They had all thought that once Angelus was gone that they would be done with the Order of Aurelius but fate had different plans. Jenny felt so much guilt as she reflected on how suspicious she had been of Willow after the ritual against the soul suckers. The girl had been so scared and only wanted to defend herself but Jenny had let visions cooked up by demons make her hesitate to teach her more than the fundamentals. A nagging voice told her that Willow could have saved herself if only she had been taught more magical self-defense. Maybe that was why Jenny said, “If I'm going to do this, I'm not doing it alone.”

* * *

Angel and Spike argued as they walked out of a San Pedro dive bar near the docks. A smoggy sea breeze wafted over them as the low bellows of passing ships traveled over the water while the pulse of urban traffic bounced off the concrete. Smokers leaned against their motorcycles in the street light, some demon and some not, watching them pass. He had been right the night before when he figured that Spike was going to lead him to a dead end.

“I wish I could say that I can't believe you got us kicked out of the bar.” Angel patted the front of his gray shirt with an napkin. “This better not make a stain, Spike.”

“Its seltzer, for crying out loud. You're lucky that I didn't bring Dru or else you'd have something redder on your blouse.” Spike lit a cigarette and rolled his eyes. “Should have gotten out of my way when the discussion got heated.”

“Heated? You threw our source's drink into his face then punched him. Of course, he won't help us finish the deal now.” Angel shook his head. He might have well have stayed in his apartment for all the good that this had done for them. They weren't any closer to finding either Lawson or Willow and now he was going to have to get his shirt dry-cleaned. Angel stopped and dropped his napkin when they got into the parking lot.

 

Spike snorted as he whirled to face Angel and walked backwards. “He would if you let me take a hot poker to him.” Spike arched his brow at Angel's lack of reply and looked.

Doyle leaned, in a gray shirt over a white undershirt, against the convertible with his hands in his jean pockets. He nodded to them, somber and smelling sober. His blue eyes twinkled despite a frown on his face. “Hello, Angel.”

“You're back.” Angel commented, a brief smile cracking through his grief, as he stepped towards him. When he had watched Doyle walk away the first time, he had thought that the seer had faded from his life. Perhaps he hadn't lost everyone. “Thank you.”

Spike opened his mouth to say something no doubt sarcastic.

“Not now, Spike.” Angel said before focusing on Doyle. There was more than an apology in the other man's face.“Vision?”

“Yes and no.” Doyle dipped his head, guilt in his expression, and shrugged. “Right in the middle of a big bite of pad thai, I saw where Lawson is. He's planning on taking the freighter leaving at eleven for Vancouver.” He held out his hand for Angel to shake. “If you'll take me, I'll show you.”

Angel shook his hand. “Its good to see you.”

“I'm sorry for running off.” Doyle had a rueful smile on when he shrug. “I needed to get my head on straight but this is bigger than that, mate.”

Spike blew a raspberry, arms crossed, unimpressed. “This is heartwarming, Lets go kill that son of a bitch already.”

“Come then.” Doyle led them back to the docks. He nodded to some of the workers that he knew before passing what seemed like a sprawling herd of cargo containers.

The orange lights made oily shadows in the gloom. The city noises echoing on the metal containers made their sensitive hearing useless. They followed in silence as the tension built.

Sea brine and pollution melded together to create a harsh bouquet but underneath it, Angel was soon able to find the trail. He turned to Spike and knew that the blonde had discovered it too. They soon rushed ahead of Doyle when they spotted Lawson waiting on the dock in a baseball cap and a duffel bag over his arm. Angel nodded up to the cargo containers.

Spike mock saluted and jumped up, his coat billowing, to tail Lawson from above.

Lawson saw them, dropped his bag, and took off running into the maze of cargo containers. His cap flew off his head as he ran.

Their footsteps were lost in the sounds of the busy dock, but Angel had Lawson's scent as the other vampire dodged and side stepped between the containers to shake him off the trail. No humans witnessed the breaking of every track record in the country while the demons chased each other through the gloomy industrial area.

Angel followed him, passing some containers painted with Chinese logos, and smiled as Lawson slowed.

Drusilla stood the middle of the path with her hands on her hips and wicked grin on her face. “You had a party without me.” She waved before rushing up and grabbing Lawson by the neck with both hands, nails poised at his arteries.

Angel walked to them, raising his chin while he looked down on Lawson, his hands behind his back. A ghost of a chilly smile haunted his face and grew as Lawson's fear deepened. Another loose end dealt with, Angel thought before he grabbed the younger vampire by the upper arm and dug his claws in. After seeing Willow and Franz' victim, Angel had some anger issues to work out. “Missed your boat, Sammy Boy.”

“Drusilla,” Spike said as he jumped down. Sentiment flickered across his features when he grabbed one of her hands and kissed her knuckles. A hint of a scold and a lot of affection graced his tone. “Pet, what have you got here?”

“Shifting sands.” Drusilla looked at Angel then she asked, head tilted to the side, hooded eyes gazing at Spike while a smile curled at the corner of her mouth. “Want him to sing a little song?”

Doyle finally caught up, jogging, huffing and puffing, as he came to a stop. “We got the bad guy?” He bent over to catch his breath. “Good. Good. Bang up job, all.”

* * *  
Angel rubbed his eyes as he fully understood that his sleepless night was turning into a sleepless day.

“I'm sorry, Angel, it just slipped out.” Doyle explained for the second time after another surprise visit from Sheila Rosenberg, shrugging, as he moved to follow his boss. “At least I didn't tell her that you were the one to kidnap her daughter in the first place.”

Angel sighed because he knew that Doyle hadn't meant to confirm that Willow was still a vampire at large in the city yet was leaving soon. Sheila had forced him to agree to snatch Willow away from Franz before they skipped the state. The woman had still insisted on being the one to stake Willow and had laid another thousand dollars on the table to have it done. He hadn't known what to do so he had agreed. Shaking his head and raising a hand, he paused before answering Doyle. “There is always that. I'm going to check on the progress with Lawson.” He turned to walk down the stairs down to his apartment before lifting up the entrance to the sewer a corner of his living room and hopping in. He was greeted by the sight of Lawson strung up, shirtless, in the dry sewer tunnel.

“Impolite to interrupt the waltz.” Drusilla strolled around Lawson, nails digging into his skin, as she hummed. Her pigeon gray velvet dress and heels were speckled with blood under Spike's long duster that she had draped over her shoulders.. “And to think that you had so promised that we would be such good friends one day then turn around to ruin my perfectly good holiday on the next.”

Spike leaned up against the tunnel wall, tight red shirt tucked into black jeans, and smoked. “Mate, its not going to get better unless you keep jawing. Unless you want Drusilla to crack you open and take a look inside again.” When he saw Angel, Spike perked his head up and rubbed his hands together for a moment, cigarette on his lips, before smirking. “And its Angel. In for a show, we are tonight. Oh, Sammy Boy, you're going to wish that it was just us three again soon.”

“I'm surprised. You're still intact.” Angel said, flat and glacial to Lawson before he nodded to Dru and Spike.

“We've kept him warm for you.” Drusilla murmured as she smiled and racked her nails deep down Lawson's back before licking her fingers.

Grimacing, he arched up on his toes. Lawson's bruises and cuts were healing slower as night had turned to day and the blood kept flowing. He lifted his gaze in resignation, face demonic, nose swelling, before he spit up a tooth. “I have to hand it to you, Chief. You have brass testes. Trying to get that girl back from Franz and weaseling the mother's permission to kidnap her firstborn again. I like how you left out that pesky fact that you're a demon with a sadistic pedigree. Though, honestly, how many doctorates does it take for her to figure out there is a vampire in front of her face?” His sneer was missing his left fang.

“Its not a day to test me about my testes.” Angel crossed his arms before his frown deepened. “I'm not in a good mood, I'm out of patience, and I'm chocked full of repressed violence. The truth about Franz. Now.”

Lawson hissed. “It wouldn't make a difference. That smug bastard is always one step ahead. I wish I knew for sure where he is so I could take him out myself. He used me from the start to distract you. Torturing me ain't going to do any good. Sure, I'll tell you whatever want to hear.” He paused, hooded eyes peering up at Angel, with a forced grin. “But, I'll tell you truth if I can get a crack at Franz.”

Doyle stuck his head down the apartment's manhole into the sewer. “Boss, you have a phone call.”

“I don't want to be staked in chains, Angel.”

Angel didn't break eye contact with Lawson. “Not now.”

“Its about Willow.”


	13. Restoration

Chapter 13

The distant sun set harmless beyond the bruised horizon as dusk arrived in the City of Angels. Willow stepped out of a limo onto the curb before adjusting her cocktail dress then followed behind Franz. They walked to the front of the Wolfram & Hart building. She glanced up at the glittering skyscraper of evil incorporated as she entwined her white gloved fingers with his. If she had been still human and girlishly excitable, she would have said it was a perfect night for romance.

Franz had ordered some charms to ward off seers but he promised it wouldn't make them late for their dinner reservation. Ever since she had sneaked out of the beach house, Franz had tried to keep her occupied. Tonight would be their last in Los Angeles before they headed east to Washington D.C. He had assured her that the only difference in LA and Washington was everyone was at least twenty years older and thirty pounds heavier. It would only be another type of show business. “Imagine this as practice for when you greet Matilda. Reveal nothing on your face including the adorable lip biting. These lawyers drink more blood than we do.”

“I'll do my best impression of your professional, businessman, ultra-serious vampire face.” Willow tried to focus on the raw sensory experience that was California before she started the newest chapter of her unlife. The balmy smoggy night wrapped around her like a shawl as the rhythm of the city echoed off the asphalt.

“My what?” His eyes twinkled as his smile grew. He squeezed her hand.

She leaned her head on Franz's shoulder and grinned up at him. Death hadn't silenced her sense of whimsy. It only made her more confident in herself.

Then a sickening feeling over came her, her smile faded, and she pulled away from him and hunched over. Dry heaving, she groaned at the pain that burrowed under her skin. It felt as if someone rubbed a cheese grater from the inside. A familiar and hated presence laid siege to the demon's influence. Taken by surprise, she couldn't even set a name to the sensation that ripped through her. Agony dulled her mind. The demon found no defense for this foe as an outside power rallied its strength. Mystical chains bound it in submission.

Falling to her knees, she looked up at Franz with new eyes. Willow was confused and horrified as she got to her feet on shaking legs. Memories that couldn't have been hers drag raced through her mind.

“Willow, whatever is wrong?” Franz tried to take her hands. His gray eyes were wide and searching. Memories of those eyes shifting from possessive, demonic, cold, aroused, angry overlapped the present worry in them. She remembered the blood he shared and the blood he took, the home he broken and the one he had made, she began to remember it all. Like the tide rolling out, she saw the dirty secrets left behind.

She shuddered and backed away as she stumbled again. What had he done? She looked at the limo, idling at the curb, and knew it was the one she had died in.“What did you do to me?” What had she done? Willow gasped as she remembered the night before, the fear, the blood, the double murder. It was all becoming horribly clear. Her trembling legs wanted to give way again. “I killed people.”

“Oh, no.” Franz shook his head as rage clouded his expression. He stood still, empty hands falling to his sides, shocked. “He wouldn't.”

Willow backed away as she gagged as blood rose up in her throat. Her head pounded as the sensations and emotions became more intense. Memories built to a crescendo of bitter death and cruel grace. All of it horrified her to the core. This meant only one thing. A soul. She thought of Angel. He had been both her rescuer and her tormenter yet now he was the only one on Earth who could help her. Instinct forced her feet to a run. Spotting a brunette in a dress suit leaving a taxi, Willow raced to the stopped car, hopped in, and told the cabbie. “Step on it!”

“Where too?” The taxi driver turned around to look at her.

“Just go now. I'll pay you double.” She slammed the door. Willow looked behind her to see Franz run into the street as cars honked and swerved around him. They locked eyes before he turned to stalk into the Wolfram & Hart building. Holding a hand to the window, she yelled, voice cracking, “Now!”

“You're running, girl, why?” He asked as he merged into traffic. His heartbeat seemed to echo in the car and a rusty smudge of blood lingered near his chin where he cut himself shaving. His brown eyes were concerned as they looked at her in the rear view mirror. “I can call the policia. You look troubled.”

“You wouldn't believe me and its too long a story.” She told the cabbie where Angel lived in stutters and stops. Her whole body shivered. Rubbing her arms, Willow wanted to scratch her skin away, rid herself of the blood that drenched her, the stolen blood that fueled her.

He urged her to call the police again and then tried to tell her in halting English that his brother-in-law on the police force could help her before offering her his car phone to call her parents.

Willow felt tears come to her eyes at his kindness and concern that she no longer deserved, but she only shook her head. There was no home for her. She had caught the scent of his blood and wondered, horrified, how it would taste. She bit her lip as she forced herself to focus. Falling to pieces wasn't an option yet she wanted to scream and cry. In the silent car ride, she went over the past weeks as the memories settled hauntingly into place. Lost in the last moments of her human life, she hadn't noticed that the cab reached Angel's neighborhood. She gave the taxi driver a hundred dollar bill with as much of a smile that she could muster which was not a frown by only a technicality. “Gracias. Keep the change.” Her eyes flickered to his cab license on the dash. “You should switch to the day shift, Mr. Ortega. You're far too kind for this city at night.”

Willow turned and made herself walk normally around the side of Angel's office building before she chucked her expensive cellphone, a gift from Franz, more than a block down. Her hearing proved sensitive enough to hear it break into pieces. If she had been thinking straight, she would have tossed it sooner. Franz and his crack team of evil could track her with it. That hard earned composure seemed to desert her with every step. She bolted up the stairs two at a time despite wanting to fall to her knees and scream as her resolve crumbled with every inch closer to Angel. The painguiltshamefear, that she had held bottled up as best she could in the taxi, came loose.

Angel had to know how to deal with this. Was he the one to do this to her? Was it Jenny?

She rushed down the hall before turning to the door of Angel Investigations. Willow looked behind her and ran into Angel, halfway into his coat and staring at her with wide eyes. She looked up at him and fell against his chest, crying. Her will broke and crumbled as she muffled her wild sobs against his shoulder.

He took her into his arms, held her up, and led her inside.

"Either that was short notice or she's a greyhound," Doyle commented as his eyes darted upwards for a moment. “What do you need me to do, boss?”

Willow turned her head, absurdly feeling guilt that his shirt was now stained with her mascara, and pulled away only to stumble against him. She mentally added his gray shirt, probably the lightest color in his wardrobe, to her list of victims.

Angel shook his head, holding Willow around the shoulders, her tears soaked into his shirt. "Its late and they will suspect she came here first. Go lie low for a day or two. Not your apartment."

“Willow, congrats on being soulful and all that. Welcome back to the club.” Doyle nodded and walked out after putting on his fedora before he said, "Good luck with her, Angel. Mind yourself, all around, you got enemies mingin' up the mission."

Willow leaned against Angel and all she could think about was that girl that she helped Franz kill in the parking garage and then the bound man- Franz's surprise. Just thinking about how delicious his blood and his struggles had been made her wonder if she could still throw up because she felt sick. After so many years of fighting besides Buffy, Willow had become a vampire. It was as if she had been living on borrowed time since that night so long ago in her freshmen year when she had tried to seize the day and would have ended up Master-food if it hadn't been for Buffy. The Hellmouth had finally claimed her in the city of Angels.

She let Angel guide her into an elevator even as she kept asking, "Why?"

* * *

"It was your friends in Sunnydale who did this. I only just learned about it." Angel took his arm off her shoulders to face her. He remembered how hard it had been that first night after the curse when he had wandered the countryside, tearing at his clothes and hair, as his crimes seemed to be branded onto his soul. His heart broke at the loss in her eyes. He wanted to say that it would get better but that would be a lie. "How did you get here so fast?"

"Franz and I were dropping in on his lawyers before going out to dinner. I ran into a taxi and made the cabbie push the speed limit all the way here." Willow looked away from him and at her gloved hands before rubbing her hands on her bare arms and gazing at the ground. “Huh.” She bent over and took off her white shoes then picked them up. “I broke my heels.”

The elevator door opened and Angel directed Willow to sit down on the small sofa before making his way down to the sewer where Drusilla and Spike still toyed with Lawson. "Willow is here." He folded his arms and frowned at Lawson. He might not have been the puppet master but he hadn't minded the strings until they had wrapped around his neck like a noose. "I guess we don't need you." His eyes darted to Drusilla and Spike. A silent request for privacy passed between them. His focus needed to be on Willow. "Make sure he doesn't get noisy or attempt escape."

Drusilla smiled as she pulled on a opera glove then picked up an antique razor with a mother of pearl handle. "Of course, Angel. Mustn't scare the poor dear away."

“Then he's yours now. I want him near dead by sunrise. I might wake up feeling traditional and force him to meet the sun. “ Angel nodded, mood grim, as he gazed at the vampire who had once been a promising young GI. The dripping of the damp sewers reminded him of the submarine and a night long past where he had to make dark choices. Angel had felt profound sorrow in that mission under the sea when he had turned Sam Lawson to save that sub, now all he felt was relief that he would finally let the poor man die and get him out of his hair. "You wanted in the Order of Aurelius. How does it feel?"

“I wanted a mission, Chief.” Lawson spit out, resigned and hoarse.

Spike saluted him mockingly but his tone was more gentle. "Good luck with that one up there."

Angel turned and climbed up the rusty metal stairs back to the apartment. He stuck his head out and saw Willow sitting with her face in her hands on the ottoman. He had been in her position once but he had hope for her. She had been a vampire for less than a fortnight so her body count couldn't be that high. Not that it would mean much to the victims. Willow would be haunted but she couldn't have plumbed the depths of depravity so soon. Right now was the hardest time, when one had to process that they were a vampire and a killer and that their body hadn't been their own. He climbed up and out before leaning on the kitchen table across the room from her. "Willow?"

She raised her face and wiped her eyes. "Oh, hi." She looked away and bit her lip as she seemed to come to a long internal debate with herself. "What am I going to do, Angel?” She brushed her hair away from her face. “My parents saw me die, my best friend is the vampire slayer, and I don't know how I can control myself. I could only hear the cabbie's heart beating in the taxi and I just could imagine what his blood tasted like. He kept trying to get me to call the police to find help. Just being a nice guy to a complete weirdo, he couldn't understand. I wanted to bite him. ” Willow looked off into the distance. “I must have scared him.” She shook her head. “I don't know what to do with myself."

Angel didn't smile but he was amused to notice that the trademark Willow-babble was courtesy of the soul. Her unsouled incarnation had been so measured with her speech. Maybe there was hope for Willow to find her way back to something resembling a normal life.

"How do I make it not hurt, Angel?" Willow looked down. She had been a teenager when she was alive but there was bitter wisdom in her eyes that belied her true age. Sighing, she smoothed down her dark green dress and tilted her head. “Isn't that horrible? I killed two people and I'm asking how to make it better for me.” Willow snorted, saying ruefully, as if remembering a time long ago. “The magnificent predator has come down to Earth.” His confusion must have been plain because she explained, “Franz called me that once. It was what he wanted me to be.”

Angel internally seethed at Franz's name but he kept it off his face as he knelt in front of her and took her hands. “It'll always hurt.”

“I'd ask how you stand it, but I guess you just do or you don't.” Tears swam in her wide eyes before she wiped them away with a gloved thumb to compose herself. The pragmatic girl who had once asked him what the rules were shone through. “How do you survive between worlds?”

“Practice. I can show you how to built life without a pulse and an assumed identity, even help you find a job in a magic shop, but something bigger has to push you forward.” He shrugged. Angel couldn't claim expertise on the subject since he had spent a hundred years drifting in penance until a balancing demon with questionable taste in menswear pulled him out of his funk. It was only after meeting Buffy that he even made contact with humans on a friendly level. All Angel knew for certain was that he didn't want Willow making the same mistakes that he had. “I have a purpose to make amends. ” He got up and sat beside her. “You'll have to find what will keep you waking up at sunset.”

Willow's shoulders slumped. “Its not just me that I worry about. He told me that he left my parents alive but I can't believe him- or can I?”

Angel closed his eyes for a moment as he collected his thoughts and said slowly, “Franz didn't lie but there is more to the story.”

“What?” Willow angled herself to face him. “Don't leave me in suspense.”

Angel hesitated in saying the diplomatic and caring words to deliver another blow to the girl.

“Just spit it out already. I'm a vampire now, I'm hardly delicate anymore.” Willow rolled her eyes.

“Your father killed himself.” He said it as if the sad truth was a bandage that needed to be ripped off quickly.

Willow blinked and turned away as her hand rose to her mouth to muffle her grief. Her dark hair shielded her face from view but it was obvious she was crying again. She shuddered with each sob. Slumping over her knees, she rocked as she pressed her other hand against her eyes. Mumbling between her smothered wails, words like “suicide” and “fault” melded with incoherent regrets. Her words sounded as fragile as fractured glass. She lifted her head, mouth cracked open as if all her screams had escaped, and her wet gaze seemed to pass through him. Her hands fell limp to her sides. “I leaned so much on him that I never realized how much he relied on-,” Willow began before sobs wracked her again. Words gushed from her as if blood from an arterial wound. Some soft and quiet, others loud, most were indiscernible. “-felt safe. I could breathe again with him. I was home!”

Even Angel's sensitive hearing, honed over centuries, could barely make out the rest. He didn't need to hear her words to know that she blamed herself as she always did.

“He had tried so hard to make everything up to me.” Her head fell back into her hands.

He didn't know what to say to her so he sat beside her in silence, letting her cry on his shoulder, before standing up when she turned away. Getting blood out of the fridge, Angel tried not to look at the crying woman, letting her have privacy, as he tore open the bag of blood. He poured the blood into two mugs before heating it in the microwave that Doyle made him buy.

She shook her head and rubbed her eyes with jittery hands. Willow hugged herself, seeking composure yet finding none, and stood on legs that trembled, threatening to fall. Her raspy voice sounded far away despite the mere yard between them. She closed her eyes as if awaiting the worst when she asked, “And, my mother?”

“She hired me to kill Franz.” Angel didn't know how to add that her mother also wanted to stake her. That seemed like the kind of information that he might have to make her a cup of tea before sharing. Maybe wait until she had a day's rest then spring it on her. “She's gotten scarier but she's healthy. Physically.”

“What about Xander and Buffy? Oh, god, what about Giles? Is he okay?” Willow rushed the few steps into the kitchen. Her voice grew frantic. She steadied herself on the table.

“He's still in the coma.” Angel got the blood out of the microwave and handed her a mug.

She grimaced as she looked at it but she sipped it without comment though she winkled her nose at the first taste. The blood did bring color back to her cheeks and stopped the shivering of her limbs. She gulped it like a shot of whiskey before setting the mug down. Pain narrowed her gaze and tightened her mouth. Clenching her fists, she bit the inside of her mouth before she declared. “Then I might as well have killed him too. Jenny doesn't have the strength for draining a wizard and resouling a vampire.”

“Don't take the blame for that, Willow.” He could see the weight piling up on her shoulders even as she seemed to retreat inside herself. From his memories as Angelus, he remembered how well Willow could put up her poker face at times of greatest distress. Oceans away from serenity now, she could only throw on a grimacing death mask. Angel wished that she would continue crying, the sobs were better than the rigor mortis of her numb expression.

She gave a spare harsh chuckle that could have been the cousin of a sob. “I don't even know if I have room for that guilt. I'm still not even processing my dad. We had gotten so close these few months. Now, he is gone.” She rubbed her temples, mask flickering, as she turned away from him. “I miss that fuzzy panic feeling and the vague sense of dread. My panic and dread is way too clear right now.”

“You're safe here.” The words sounded false to his own ears.

She shot him a skeptical look. “Even if I didn't hear Spike and Drusilla below us, I wouldn't believe that. Franz is working with Wolfram & Hart. We were going to leave for DC so Franz could be the new liaison to the Order. He has guards, vampires, under his command and those lawyers are willing to give him more.” Willow closed her eyes and slumped against the table. “He's going to come after me.”

Angel nodded. “He'll try at first. He's being paid to mess with my head, but we can get you out of to-”

Willow shook her head and leaned in to speak quieter. “You don't understand. I'm not saying that he loves me, but he didn't just turn me to mess with you. I think he was lonely.” She sighed and brushed her hair back off her face. “He definitely acted like I was his girlfriend at least. I'm guessing since I never actually had a boyfriend before, but we did stuff...you know.” Her eyes darted away.

Angel knew that this would be a moment where, when she was human, she would have blushed. A feeling not unlike jealousy rose up in him and he looked away to quell his disquiet. Angel's treacherous mind filled in the blanks based off what he had seen when he had walked in on Willow feeding off Franz and that night he had chased her through the night as only vampires could. He could imagine her saucy unsouled smile as Franz and Willow embraced before their clothing fell. How she might bite his lip or how his professionalism might fall to reveal the man underneath as the two entwined. He could see the triumph in Franz's eyes as a torrid vision of him taking Willow's maidenhead flashed through Angel's thoughts. Angel forced his mind away from the subject. He figured that Franz would stake his claim on her in more way than one, but it was unsettling to think of the memories that she had woken up too. Even his jaded human soul had been surprised and overwhelmed at the debauchery and bloodshed that his demon had engaged in. “Understood.”

“I think I should lie down.” Willow nodded.

He directed her towards his room, as he was about to leave, he paused at her voice.

“Would you sit up with me? Its like there is so much going inside myself right now. Distract me.” Willow's composure fell as she curled up on the bed like a wounded animal. Her arms wrapped around her knees while she bit her lip. The scent of her tears wafted to him. “How did it feel when you were given your soul back?”

“Like a train had ran me over.” Angel nodded and sat on the foot of the bed. He told her about the girl that Darla had stolen from the Roma camp and how they had feasted on her thus gaining the ire of her whole family. He remembered running from Darla into the night, mind full of nightmares that were only memories, he stumbled through the city to the outskirts of the forest where the Roma witch had cast her spell. Falling to his knees, in the moonlight as the camp fires shuddered in the breeze, the soul of the man called Liam had seen the wide scope of terror that his darkness had wrought. It had changed him forever just as it would change her. “I felt like slime and hid myself for many years. But I was alone. You aren't, Willow.” Angel couldn't help but think about how he wouldn't have to be alone either. He wasn't the only vampire with a soul anymore.

She tried to smile at him before a dark cloud shifted over her expression. “He told me this was what I deserved, Angel.”

Despite her emotional anguish, he thought of when he chased her through the alleys of the city, and how his demon could only wish that she had been made by him. To a vampire like Franz, turning was a blessing. Angel had to lie. “No, its not.” He covered it with the truth. The human that she had been hadn't deserved to die. “You were a good person.”


	14. Code Red

Chapter 14

Angel found Willow in the kitchen sipping blood as she leaned against the counter. Her gloves and shoes were gone while her cocktail dress was as mussed as her hair. One arm crossed over her belly, she stared ahead and gave him a nod when he came down the stairs. She had only been abed for a half an hour. During that time, he had been making phone calls to Sunnydale and to Doyle while fighting the urge to personally rip whatever truth he could out of Sam Lawson. Spike and Drusilla had kept their word to keep the noise to a minimum yet muffled screams still reached his ears. Angel tried to keep it together but it still felt like things were falling apart. He didn't know what to say so he reached for a empty pleasantry. “How was the nap?” It felt stupid even as it came out of his mouth because they both knew he heard her weeping for most of that half hour.

“I tossed around for the last fifteen minutes until I said to myself, self, you're wasting time. Time you could be raiding Angel's blood stash.” Willow lifted up the mug and smiled in an dim echo of her old spunk. The optimistic facade was thin yet stable. It felt like a good sign until it faded. “You're not wrong about Franz, he'll check here first. I'm only surprised that a SWAT team hasn't swooped in to find me.” She shook her head as if chastising herself. “I put you in danger.”

“I put myself in danger everyday, Willow.” Angel shook his head as he walked into the kitchen. She was still blaming herself for the consequences of his actions, if there was any doubt as to if she had a soul or not, it was gone. Only Willow would apologize to him after everything.

“What will you do if he comes?”

Angel couldn't help but turn grimmer. Having thought deeply on his dealings with Franz, Angel could only wonder how long he had been planning to turn Willow or if that was just another insulting distraction to disguise a greater scheme?

Franz was now rising in the Order. What else was in his agenda? In the past, Angel and Franz had been cordial if not close for the most part, and it hadn't occurred to his unsouled counterpart to be overly suspicious about Franz's motives beyond a paycheck. Franz had been at his right hand for those weeks at the Crawford Mansion, making polite suggestions and feeding him information about what intrigues and power plays he had missed, while he had been professional and unassuming. It had been easy for Angel to forget about Franz locked away with Willow in the background while schemes plotted by his childer and Buffy's offenses against him rose to the fore. After Angel had made snap judgments on each issue, Franz powered through tedious Order paperwork that could take hours because of the fine print. And the devil was in those details. Overcompensating, his demon had wanted to show how tough he still was. By taunting a slayer, surrounding himself with notorious childer, gaining more territory, he stretched himself out and left the fine print to underlings.

Angel couldn't tell if Willow was Franz's ultimate goal or if she was just another detail in a century's old power play. “Welcome him with open arms.”

Willow set down the blood to step up to him. “Don't get yourself hurt.” She lifted her eyebrows as she crossed her arms. “I see the vendetta in your eyes, Mister.”

“Can you blame me? He killed one of my few friends.” Angel clenched his jaw. Was she still defending Franz? What kind of hold did he had on her? Angel frowned as he conceded that the other vampire was her sire, but that only stroked the anger within. There was still a part of him that had wanted to turn her himself.

Willow tilted her head as she considered his statement. “We were friends?”

It shouldn't have stung Angel but it did. “I had hoped one day that we would be.”

“Maybe we will be.” She touched his arm, smoothing away the bite from her last comment, as she stayed insistent. “I don't want you hurt.”

“And, I didn't want you hurt. You were an innocent in all of this.”

“Was I?” Willow barked a harsh laugh. “I didn't stay that way. I've killed. I wanted to kill; I hungered for it. I might not have been steering the wheel but my hands still have blood on them. What if that darkness was in me my whole life? You remember the soul ritual when we bonded. You saw my soul. Don't tell me that there wasn't a bit of me left with the demon. Even if there wasn't, how does that take away the blood stains?”

He remembered her quips and her laughter when they had chased one another like animals. She had been so different yet he couldn't deny the similarities. He couldn't help but wonder if he had seen into her future during that ritual. “You weren't a murderer. I know that.”

“You barely know me.” She turned away from him as she wrapped her arms around herself.

“Maybe,” he admitted, frowning, as he laid a hand on her shoulder and guided her to face him. “I do know that your human-self found the strength to forgive even me. That says more about you than any ritual. Forgiveness isn't just for others. You can forgive yourself.”

Willow looked at him quick and uncertain, hope rising on her face, as she asked, “Did they curse me with a spell different than yours?”

Angel frowned as he understood what she was wondering before shaking his head. He felt like a cad.

“Then I guess, I shouldn't forgive myself that quickly.” She shrugged with determined casualness that belied the tremble in her hands. Dread rose through her poker face.

He knew she was thinking of when he had lost his soul and all that he had done to those who cared about him. He pulled his hand off her shoulder. “It doesn't mean that you shouldn't.”

Shaking her head, she looked down before taking a deep breath and changing the subject. “But you know that I can't stay.”

Angel stepped away, knowing that she would be safer out of Los Angeles, but wary of having her out of his sight. There was a touch of martyrdom in her eyes just behind the guilt. He felt his past optimism drain even farther. “Where would you go?”

Willow sighed as she rubbed her arms. “Buffy still needs me and I know that if I wasn't around, you could go underground.” She paused at the expression that must have revealed his opinion. “Or fight, you big stubborn macho vampire. Either way, you wouldn't have to worry about protecting me when I have slayer back up.”

“Are you even up for a fight against the Mayor?” Angel appreciated a good quest against evil but he had once vowed to protect her and he couldn't do that if she insisted on rushing into danger. She did have a knack for getting herself out of it, but he just wanted to keep her safe from the consequences of his demon's actions. She wouldn't had even meet Franz if it wasn't for him.

Willow shot him a cranky look before she murmured a quiet Latin phrase and stared at the mug on the counter. It rose up and swayed in the air as if proving a point before delicately settling into the sink. “Yeah, I think I'm up.”

Angel crossed his arms and snorted to cover his surprise that her powers transferred over in death. Her power must have been deeply ingrained to be the kind of energy clung to a person beyond the grave. It didn't reassure him because he knew it would only embolden her to take on the Mayor. “Parlor tricks.”

“Says...You.” Willow faltered in surprise. “I still have my powers.”

“But do you have the will? The control? Wilkins won't hesitate in battle. He's old and crafty. Wizards don't live over a century unless they have more up their sleeve than the local Republican Party.” Angel shook his head. He noted her narrow eyes and he tried not to antagonize her yet he couldn't step back without warning her. Angel accepted her hate if it kept her safe. “You were worried before. Now, you're a vampire only a few weeks in death.”

“Thanks for the pep talk, Angel.” Sarcasm colored her tone and a stubborn glint came into her eyes. “This is doing wonders for my confidence.”

“You don't understand. Why do you think Franz turned you so quickly? He knew you were planning on going up against one of the most powerful wizards on the west coast. It's suicide.” Angel ran a hand through his hair in exasperation. “Even if Jenny Calendar can channel your energies against the Mayor, how do you know it will be enough now that she is weakened?”

Willow's mouth opened as she narrowed her eyes in thought before she said slow and even. A touch of her demon lingered in her tone. “Angel, even if I didn't have any magic ability left, I would still go back to fight alongside my friends.”

He stepped into her space. “But, what can you do against his power?”

“Nothing.” Willow lifted her chin and held her ground, staring him in the eyes, as she put her hands on her hips. Her resolve was bewitching despite her frail pallor.

Angel felt five swords poke at his back before they dropped behind him with a clatter. He arched an eyebrow but wouldn't reveal more of his shock. He hadn't even heard the swords move.

“He's not invincible and underneath the power, he's still mortal. Just like I was. It’s pointless to have a wizard's duel. I'm going to have Jenny distract him and then I'll see how magical he is without a head. He has personal wards for spells against him but I think a hurled dagger would pass his barriers especially if he is expecting a magic fight.” Willow threw up her hands and turned away from him. “I'm just winging it, but I can't stay here and be a burden for you and I can't stay away from Sunnydale. Either way, I'm going to be in danger.”

“Isn't there somewhere else you can go?”

Willow shook head her head. “I'm not bringing my Nana or my Uncle Dan into this.”

Angel nodded. He knew that he might have made a similar decision in her position. The deck was stacked against her but she still clung to her own freewill. He couldn't fault her for that since she had been forced her own way to deal with the fallout from his demon's actions and his own failures. “You could come back someday too. It’s not a one way road.”

“So, you're not going to stop me?” Willow raised her eyebrows.

“I beginning to think that I couldn't even if I tried.” Angel shrugged. It was hard to admit defeat. She wouldn't take his protection but hopefully, she would take his advice. There was something else he had wanted to protect her from yet couldn't- alienation from the human world. “It’s not going to be easy, seeing them again, them seeing you, feeling the new divide. They won't know how to act around you at first. Don't lose heart. Your friends care for you still.”

Willow nodded, gaze darting away, as she bit her bottom lip.

Angel laid his hand on her shoulder and tipped her chin up. Thinking about that dark cold night in Romania, he said all the things that he had wished he'd been ready to hear then. “And, don't throw away your life, Willow. I used to think of the soul as a curse, but it's not. It's a second chance. Take it.”

“I'll return.” Setting her hand on his, she brought their lips together for a brief moment. It wasn't a kiss of passion or promise, but solace, comfort, and a bit of friendship. As she pulled away, her eyes looked far beyond him as if she saw the future stretch before her. “I have all the time in the world now.”

 

* * *

Sulfur and burnt herbs still scented the air even after the ritual ingredients had been put away. Tension darkened the library as gloomy anticipation welled within them all. Cordy and Xander whispered by the card catalog while Buffy and Jenny huddled over the long study table. Buffy couldn't sit still since they had performed the ritual to give Willow back her soul. Angel had already called to warn them that she would be arriving tonight. Two weeks ago her best friend had died and now she was coming back. It was more than surreal. There was so much that she wanted to say and so much that she needed to say. A part of her wondered which Willow would be returning. Would it be her friend or a stranger?

She wished that Giles could have been there. Every day she had gone and everyday, the watcher had given no response until the day before last All she wanted to do was to talk to him but he still laid weak in his bed at the hospital. She couldn't burden him with the Mayor or Willow just yet. Earlier, after Angel called, she had gone to visit him, she held his hand and whispered of Willow, the Mayor, and how much she missed him. He had been sleeping but this time she knew he would wake up. She had hoped that he would wake up to a better Sunnydale but the one they had would have to do.

To fill time and to give her restless hands a task, she helped Ms. Calendar take a quick peak at city hall in the astral plane. Whatever came of Willow regaining her soul, whatever differences there were, it was clear that hope wasn't lost. They needed to be ready. The Mayor was.

Buffy nodded at Ms. Calendar's description of the Mayor's magical defenses. The city hall had been worked over by the Mayor recently and another ring of supernatural detectors had been added to the already fortified building. The Mayor had made his headquarters clear. It was obvious that he had prepared himself for a siege. Since they had their original plan A and B destroyed, Buffy found herself scrambling for ideas try.

Jenny hadn't been exactly optimistic when she mentioned their chances of breaking through his shields. The teacher still looked dazed from the ritual so Buffy didn't want to press the issue.

“I had found a ritualized presence in the old town cemetery.” Jenny began, pointing to an area nearby a Unitarian church on the map. Loose strands of hair were escaping her ponytail when she leaned over the map.

The library doors cracked open before hesitant feet stepped in.

Buffy didn't know whether to smile or gasp when she turned to look at the newcomer. This is what she had been preparing for yet her mind drew a blank. She gaped at Willow, searching for the girl she knew, as her slayer sense began to tingle. Buffy found herself frozen and raised her hand but couldn't wave. She could only stare at her friend. Willow looked so Willow-y but there were little tell tale clues- pale skin, blue veins, and no breathing.

The redhead, pale and uncertain, lingered by the front desk before stepping closer. She wore an expensive cocktail dress in a flattering midnight blue that clashed in contrast to the cheap yellow flip flops on her feet. The dress was wrinkled and her hair mussed. Willow looked like she had one hell of a night. “Hey, guys.” She smiled her signature brave little toaster smile. It flickered, ready to crumble at any moment.

Ms. Calendar scanned Willow, dark eyes wide, arms crossed. “Welcome back.”

“Willow!” Xander's mouth dropped open. An expression of wonder brightened his eyes and loosened the lingering anger that had settled over him in the last weeks. A softness came onto his features. He moved forward as he asked, awed. “Is it really you?”

“It has to be. Only Willow would wear Yves Saint Laurent with dollar store shoes.” Cordelia smiled wide, no malice in her gentle scolding, as she shook her head and crossed her arms over her yellow sundress. The usually aloof cheerleader's eyes twinkled. “So, you're a vampire with a soul now. Does that mean you're going to rock the Anne Rice-look like Angel?”

Willow shrugged and winced jokingly. Her shoulders relaxed as she quipped. “I might have to. I've noticed that vampires don't look good in neon. I'll have to throw away all my orange hats.”

“You're so right. Orange on redheads, never good.” Cordelia chuckled before shaking her head. “Seriously though, I was all sad that you were like majorly undead. Maybe they might find a pill for that.”

“Thanks, Cordelia.” Willow smiled, a glimmer of hope in her gaze, and nodded. She toed the ground before biting her lip. Her eyes shined with unspent tears. “I'll keep that in mind.”

“Willow, I've missed you, buddy.” The relief and gratitude tightened his voice. Xander opened up his arms for a hug. His hands shook as a tear escaped down his cheek.

Willow's eyes widened in fear before she shook her head. It didn't seem possible but the redheaded vampire had gone even paler. She didn't trust herself. An aura of guilt weighted her slumped shoulders. “I don't think it's safe to hug yet.”

As she saw her friend freeze, Buffy found herself again. It was her Willow for sure. She didn't waste a thought on the risks when she walked past Ms. Calendar, Cordelia, and Xander to embrace Willow in a tight hug, controlled by her slayer strength. Willow was stiff at first but eased into the hug and embraced the slayer back. Buffy smiled as she laid her head on her friend's shoulder. “Don't worry. I'll keep you steady.”

***

This was more than Willow could have dreamed, in that moment, she almost felt alive as Buffy's heart thumped against her own silent breast. Relief wafted over her like a refreshing breeze. Despite her new strength, she had felt weak when she had walked in to face her friends. Cordelia had eased some of the nervous tension but it wasn't until Buffy had wrapped her arms around Willow that the fear had passed. She still had some of the best friends in the world. Willow closed her eyes as she whispered. “I've missed you all so much.”

Xander joined them in the group hug without any shame of the tears that fell from his eyes. A tremble went through him. He rubbed Willow's arm before kissing her temple.

Buffy smiled at Willow before backing up to give Xander space. She brushed her wet cheeks.

Her oldest friend wasted no time sweeping Willow into his arms in a bear hug. His voice lowered to a tear-strained growl.“Never die again. I don't want to lose you like Jesse.” He pulled back to smile, worry stole over his features like a blight, as he held her close one more. The scent of sacred herbs lingered on him. “I hope you can forgive me, I made them do it. I couldn't watch you be dusted. I didn't want to let you go.”

“You won't have to now.” Willow squeezed him back. “I don't blame you for anything. You did all you could.” She eased out of the embrace to wipe away some of his tears. Her heart would have broken again from the relief on his tired face. “I'm just glad to have my best friend back.”

“Me too.”

Willow felt a sense of peace come over her until she lowered her eyes to Xander's neck and realized that she had only drank pigs blood in the last twelve hours. She felt guilty relief when his stomach rumbled at the same time that hers did. She smiled, melancholy despite her hopes, as she nodded and agreed with Jenny's hoarse voice that the other Scoobies needed a midnight snack break. Willow watched them go out the library doors. Her smile hardened before dissolving as they disappeared into the hall. The doors flapped closed. Willow saw Jenny in their circular windows.

“You're always going to be a little different from them now, Willow.” Jenny stepped closer, slow and cautious, as she tilted her head. “That doesn't mean that they don't want to be your friends. That does mean that you'll need to be careful. That spell isn't a blessing, its a curse of vengeance that can be broken with a single moment of happiness.”

***

 

Sheila took her seat in the front. They had been moved to the tiny church auditorium to make room for an AA meeting. She set her purse to the side, feeling her cell phone vibrate and ignoring it, before putting her hands on her lap. It was probably Ira's brother, Dan, or his cheerful wife. After the funeral, they had taken her into their home, but Sheila couldn't stay despite her dwindling savings and book sales. They hadn't known how to act around her and she hadn't known how to act around them. Work had been a poor distraction even as she had collated her research and begun to write a manuscript. Her agent stopped returning her calls after Sheila had pitched a book about healing after paranormal experiences. Then her agent changed her number once Sheila's books were taken out of shops. She had seen it on the Today Show while sipping coffee in the kitchen with Dan. In a cheesy montage of falling books, pentagrams, and photos of Willow and Ira, the faux serious host had commented on Ira's suicide and her occult interest as a follow up to their earlier report on Willow's kidnapping. Now the whole world would think she was crazy. Dan had stared at her hard before excusing himself. She had felt cursed.

Yvette seemed to be the only one who understood and had been kind enough to take her in. Sheila knew that she wouldn't stay on the west coast when she got back on her feet. Already, she worked on getting her loose ends tied so she could go back east, away from the memories of a life destroyed. A pang of remorse radiated through her as she thought of Willow. The daughter she had lost, the one she would have to see killed again. Willow wasn't just a loose end, she was the reason that Sheila couldn't buy a plane ticket and say goodbye to California forever. Her daughter still walked the night as a unholy thing. Sheila couldn't let her stay that way. It felt like a stake to her own heart but it had to be done. Sheila forced herself way from the thought before the tears could begin to fall. Not even time could make her forget what had happened to her family.

The only time that she didn't feel crazy were at the Sunnydale Survivor meetings. She didn't have to lie or omit the truth. They all knew what was out there. They all knew it was bigger and badder than them. They understood the terror in the mystery of darkness.

The therapist took her place in the middle of the circle of chairs. Ever since the first attacks, attendance at the meetings had slowed to a trickle. There were only a dozen of them left to sit stiff and fearful in their chairs. Yvette seemed to take it in stride without a shred of fear. Her smile as bright as her white cardigan, Yvette acknowledged every one of them as she looked around the room. Her serenity made them relax. “It's good to see all of you. I'm glad that everyone arrived safe to the meeting. I won't start tonight by talking about who we lost. We've marked the names for so long. Now, let us talk about who we can save.” She glanced over the crowd. “Sheila Rosenberg has requested the floor.” Yvette stepped back as she lifted a graceful hand to Sheila.

Sheila stood up, composing herself, as she tried to look past the group and tramp down any nervousness. Remembering the days when she had been considered a respected professional, she raised her head. She still had something that needed to be said and a wealth of painful experience to draw upon. “This town has the most gruesome history in California. Originally named Bloody Corners, it was renamed Sunnydale by Richard Wilkin, the first. There is nothing sunny about this town. I've heard about a mystery girl who patrols the streets, but she shouldn't fight alone. We all know what is out there. We shouldn't cower in our homes. We need to go from supporting to organizing. Th-” A resounding crack at the double doors made her jump. Claws scratched at the ground while hoots and growls taunted them from outside.

“Code red, everyone.” Yvette called out as she ran to the door to push a bench in front of it.

Sheila hadn't done any safety drills with the group but it was clear that they were prepared for a direct attack. Some went to help Yvette while others went to pull out old props and sets to use as barricades. She went with the others to block the door even as her eyes darted to the windows with fear. Maybe they were too late. A part of her just hoped it would be over quickly.

* * *

Willow made herself lean back against the wall away from Jenny. Arms crossed, she reflected during the lull of the conversation after Jenny had filled her in on what she had missed by being dead. More fortifications, murders, and underground rumors surrounded the Mayor. The outlook had gotten even bleaker.

The teacher had drawn on the depths of her power to give Willow back her soul -a once in a lifetime spell. Except Jenny had done it twice in less than five months along with a soul-bonding ritual and a myriad of other spells to defeat the usual baddies. The strain slipped through her hip teacher persona. A streak of white had appeared in her dark hair. Jenny smiled sincerely despite the rings under her eyes and the tired pallor of her complexion. “I saved the best for last. You never got to hear that Giles woke up a few hours ago. He'll leave the hospital tomorrow.”

“So, we might be able to do the draining spell when he gets better?” Willow asked as she told herself to ignore the beating of Jenny's heart, the rush of blood sloshing through her veins, and focus on the topic at hand. The pain of gaining her soul hadn't faded despite the acceptance of her friends. It had taken so much will to keep from crashing the De Soto off the road when she left Los Angeles and to take those first few steps through the library doors. Willow's throat remained tight and the tears didn't seem far from her eyes but she clenched her fists and maintained some composure. She could slip out to the butcher for some blood and cry later, Willow internally affirmed as if it was a mantra, so she pushed aside worries about herself for the moment. This mission wasn't about her. “I had an idea but that might be better especially if we get some room to breathe and pick the battleground instead of going to him.”

“I have most of my supplies at the school anyway so we're as ready as we can be for whenever Giles recovers.” Jenny gestured around the office at the little pots of herbs that had appeared around the room since Willow was last there. It was clear that Jenny had moved her headquarters into Giles' office. Her laptop claimed his desk, looking out of place in a spot where usually a medieval tome would rest, and her leather jacket draped over his chair. “Buffy asked me to play watcher and I've been trying my best.”

“I bet you've been fantastic despite it all.” Willow made herself hold a small smile for longer than a second. Her gaze lingered over to the window looking out to the main library room where the rest of the gang chatted by the table as they snacked on vending machine offerings and generic soda. That risky inner peace that had came over her when they had hugged was long gone. Jenny had been right when she warned Willow that they would always be different. In any case, happiness carried the sharp edge of danger now. Willow could never forget that again.

“The watching is easy, its the doing that's hard.” Jenny brushed her hair out of her face with a mock groan. “I swear-”

The police scanner in Giles' office crackled to low life behind Willow. A familiar voice oozed from it. “Hello, boys.”

Spinning around, she brushed the folders off it and turned it up. Alert tension flooded her body as she made herself focus on the sound of the words, cutting out the white noise, using the same skills that Franz had taught her about listening to a single voice in a loud nightclub. Her brooding reverie fled her mind as Willow concentrated on his words. Her gums itched where her fangs wanted to drop.

“The Eleventh street from the Old Cemetery to the Unitarian Church is the red spot while there is the three-mile wide dead zone instituted tonight. That includes most of Wilkins Avenue, fellas. ” The Mayor warned, even in the static, the oily tones of a career politician and wizard carried over, before the scanner went silent.

“That's where my mom's support meetings are.” Willow looked at Jenny, canines still elongating in spite of her efforts not to shift, as she went over the dead zone in her mind. She had one of her first slayer lessons there while Buffy supervised her staking a vampire. The Old Cemetery had been conquered by weeds and wines decades ago while the new cemetery and attached interfaith church complex were tidy and modern from the wheelchair ramps and solar lights. Taking advantage of the predictably good weather, it was an outdoor complex with the churches and their shared buildings scattered on the outskirts of the large graveyards. It was too open for them to do anything but die if they charged against the Mayor with only their usual collection of crossbows and axes. “We have to do something. The spell maybe.”

Jenny frowned and looked down as she sighed. “Where would we find the energy? I barely have the strength to light a candle right now. And you're a vampire, how do we even know that you'll still have your magic?” The teacher asked, hands rising to her hips, doubt in her expression.

“I already tested it. I still have some juice. Besides Drusilla kept hers. I don't know how much but I'm still new at this vampire thing.” Willow shrugged as she searched for the right way to persuade her. She knew that the odds were grim but her mother had lost so much already. Willow wanted her to have a chance to be happy someday even if she herself could not. “I had been more interested in my new senses and strengths than my magic, but there still should be some for you to draw on. All those people are in danger, Jenny. We have to try.”

Jenny shook her head as her hand chopped through the air. “There might not be enough between us.”

Shrugging, Willow figured as much and she even had a plan for that. The decision couldn't have been easier to make. It seemed like a just sacrifice in the end. Willow never sounded more serious then when she said, “You have my permission to take all my magic to fuel yours.”

Jenny leaned forward to put her hands on the desk, eyes peeking at the hushed Scoobies through the office door, and spoke softer. “That could kill you again.”

“Jenny, my life is worthless and I'd rather my death mean something. To save people.” She reached for a spell book on the shelf by Giles' desk and it hopped into her hand. Needy and sincere, Willow pleaded. “I can help. Just let me.”

Jenny threw her hands up before she walked around the desk to close the door. She shook her head again. “Hell no, Willow. Our plan isn't your suicide. I know that you must be feeling more guilt and pain than I can imagine, but you're too young to die even if its for the second time.”

Willow sighed and nodded, resigned to a repeat of her conversation of stern warnings and dire predictions with Angel. She didn't want to die but she didn't think she was worth saving any more. She had already lived her life to its normal, if rather paranormal, death. Then factor in the two people she had unabashedly killed under Franz's tutelage. If someone had to kamikaze the Mayor, it should be her. “Angel and I talked about this before too. That's when I had this thought. Magically, the Mayor can smack us around with his eyes closed, but he's still mortal-ish. I had power and I died.” Willow ignored Jenny's wince but continued in a quieter voice. “He isn't invincible. Maybe we can't beat him as a wizard, but what about a man?”

“What do you mean?” Jenny crossed her arms and leaned against Giles' desk. Concern tugged at her frown.

Willow tried to find a way to explain her idea without babbling. It was clear that whatever a dead zone was, it wasn't good. No cops were going to answer any 911 calls on Eleventh street tonight. Set in the historical section of town, it possessed some of the oldest and most extensive sections of sewer tunnels so there were more than enough ways for demons to get to the surface and flee when the killing was done. The Mayor sounded as if he would be taking a personal interest in this one too, but the wuestion was would it be another assassination or ritual? They might be able to take down a number of minions or the Mayor but not together with so small a force if they attacked in the open complex where the Sunnydale Survivor meetings were. They needed time to set up the ritual space, harvest energy, and Jenny needed to be physically undisturbed to convert Willow's magic and anchor the draining spell. The minions would already be prowling the perimeter as they waited for orders while someone would need to rescue the Survivors. Buffy couldn't defend their sacred circle if Willow wanted someone to save her mother. As she put her thoughts together, Willow asked ,“Didn't you find some ritualized energy in the old cemetery? Left by the Mayor?”

“Couldn't tell, but I wouldn't doubt if he had cast there before.” Jenny brushed her hair back up into a tighter ponytail, leaving the gray lock to curl along her jaw, before crossing her arms. “Not much of a surprise. A lot of folks work their craft under the cottonwoods. Its not far from the hellmouth.” She nodded towards the closed door where hell lingered under the Encyclopedia Britannia. “And, with all the burials over the last century, there isn't a shortage of supernatural energy. I've heard there's a vortex too but that was from some new age hippie from Sedona.”

“Vampires like to plant their fledglings there too.” Willow nodded and took a useless breath out of habit. The words were jumbled in her head but she tried to organize them before they left her mouth in a rush. “This is sounds like a hit on the Sunnydale Survivors. Maybe it might even be a PR move to pronounce himself the true, uncontested leader of the town. It probably doesn't really matter to those in the church since he'll kill them either way. The Mayor will try and stop Buffy if she tries to get the people to safety which will already be tough if he has his usual flunkies with him.” She stopped, failing completely at babbling, then gauged the guarded and contemplative expression on the teacher's face. “I think we need to lure him away with the draining spell into the old cemetery.”

“How do you figure that he'll even come or that he won't finish off that church group before focusing on us?”

Willow began to pace as she reasoned. “The Mayor has been gearing up like its an election year. He's been obsessed with rituals, sacrifices, tying up loose ends for awhile. Maybe for longer but we were too distracted by Angelus to notice. It's clear that he's preparing for something and he seems to be crossing every possible enemy off his list. I think that the Mayor has forgotten what its like to be human. We can used that against him. When a demon claims a territory, he'll fight off every trespasser. If we challenge him magically in such a public spot where the energy will be felt for days, he'll have to fight us. Its what demons do. ” Willow stopped to stare at her feet when the sounds of Spike's Humbling, the sound of whipping traveling up through the floorboards, came to mind behind a succession of demon observations that lingered in the dark recesses of her memory. When she allowed herself to brood, it felt like she had been becoming a vampire by degrees for months before Franz had killed her.

Jenny nodded as she mulled it over. “You're not off, but what are we going to do when we lure him away? He's still going to have the upper hand against us two magically.”

“True.” Willow shrugged and had to concede the point as she looked at the desk clock. They were losing moonlight fast. She hoped that the Survivors could live up to their names. Thinking fast, she spilled out the bare bones of her plan. “But, he's going to be focused on the church, probably anticipating Buffy fighting him, and maybe you as backup along with Xander. He thinks he has us beat magically since he took out Giles and if he even considers me or Angel a threat, he'll know its getting ugly in Los Angeles. He won't expect me.” Willow shifted into her vampire guise before returning to human. “I'll lay out weapons in the over-grown weeds while you set up the ritual and begin to channel my power. Leave me enough for a bit of telekinesis. The cottonwoods are high enough for me to climb to the top and be hidden. He won't expect me. And, if he does, I give you permission to run and not look back. We'll park near the cemetery so you can put the pedal to the metal if the fight goes south.”

Jenny raised her hand to her brow then her temple as she stared into Willow's eyes before nodding tiredly. “I'll tell Buffy and Xander to go to the church while we do the spell.”


	15. Captured

Chapter Notes:

This is the final chapter and I'd like to thank everyone who read and commented on this tale from the beginning. Its almost been a year but The Lost Mistress is complete at fifteen chapters. My goal was to write a appropriate and interesting sequel to Porphyria's Lover which I hope I succeeded at. Please let me know if I did. My dream is to become a Urban Fantasy novelist and I will always appreciate how this series has helped hone my writing skills. All reviews are welcome and encouraged so I can improve on the next book. Willow and Angel will return for a final installment in the Aurelius Rising Trilogy.

This fic wouldn't be possible (or as readable) without my magnificent beta, olansamuelle! Thank you for all your criticism, suggestions, and cheerleading and allowing me to drag you into the Buffy fandom. I hope you have all enjoyed my work.

Thank you all again!

 

Chapter 15

 

Buffy waited until Xander had shimmied through the small window, hidden by weeds, that led to the small interfaith auditorium basement before looking to see if anything had followed them. They weren't far from the old cemetery and she hoped that Willow and Ms. Calendar could get their spell together in time. If Buffy could have cursed without the Mayor's vampires, skulking by the front, hearing her, she would have been cursing her timing. They had gotten lost in the church before they found a small flier taped to a meeting room door inside the Unitarian church that read that the Sunnydale Survivors had been told to move their meeting. No location listed. Thankfully, a man in the Alcoholics Anonymous group that had taken over the Survivors' room for the night told them where the new meeting place was. He probably wasn't the only one with overlapping ties between the two groups. Buffy slid through the window and landed next to Xander in the darkness. "Let's go."

They walked through a dark basement and finally found the stairs. Their mission was to lead people out. They found themselves in a hallway that came to a stage that looked out over a hundred seats. Buffy remembered being forced to attend a Christmas play here. A dozen or so people rushed around blocking the doors. She saw Willow's mom, standing a circle, of seemingly the only calm people in the building, listening to a tall African-American woman give orders. Buffy waved.

Mrs. Rosenberg stared at her, before putting her chained glasses on, and gasped. "Bunny?"

"Its actually Buffy, but close.” Buffy shrugged, trying to be light despite the knowledge that there were too many people and not enough doors without vampires behind them. They had made barricades on the doors but now, their discipline had broken down as the demons growled outside. She could only count a few people keeping their heads as the crowd milled around the stage. That was was of bad. Frantic people made stupid mistakes. Mistakes that could get them killed. One or two scared people could be contained, a dozen were much harder to herd. “We've come to get you guys out of here, but everyone has to stay calm."

The woman that Buffy took to be the leader nodded. “There is a exit by the maintenance room that leads to a side door. Its hidden by the memorial garden.” She locked eyes with another support group member in a faded uniform with a delivery company logo on the breast pocket. “Antonio, try to get people together and ready to leave in a group. No breaking away. Divided, we're easy prey.” She smiled at Antonio before nodding a dismissal and turning to Buffy with her hand outstretched. “I'm Yvette Stevenson. Pleased to meet finally you. I've admired your work for awhile.”

“Likewise. ” She returned the smile and handshake as she thought fast. Willow's plan was solid if vague on the number of vampires that the Mayor would have in his guard. Buffy had already seen more along the perimeter than she could tangle with at once and protect hapless townsfolk at the same time. Either they needed to escape or they needed to fight. She already knew which one she would prefer. They might be decent people but she didn't want to see what would happen if they went up against vampires with prop swords and bibles. “I didn't see any vamps on that side.” Buffy looked to Xander.

He shook his head as he shrugged his quiver higher on his shoulder and loaded an arrow into a wide crossbow. “Nary a one, but we had better move fast. The memorial garden isn't far from a Catholic church either so we can rush everyone to sacred ground.”

“Then we can get a priest to bless water by the bucket load before giving them a holy shower from the balcony seats.” Buffy added with a grin.

“It would be a better place for a fight. Our backs are exposed here.” Xander returned the smile even if his words were grim.

Buffy nodded. It was as sound of a plan as they had beyond stalling as Willow and Ms. Calendar set up their spell. Their first plan, which depended on being in the Unitarian church, went the way of the dodo when they found out they had switched meeting locations. They both knew that their job would be easier without so many civilians in the way. Staying penned in on the stage wasn't an option she wanted to explore. “They'll be safe at least from the vampires in there.”

“Everyone listen up because we are taking the first group out.” Yvette called out and repeated the plan to get to the safety of the church. “Hustle, folks. You drop your wallet, you leave it. All you need right now is yourselves. When we say go, go.”

Xander gestured to the hall. He gave Buffy another quick smile that reached his eyes to mingle with the sadness, fear and resigned understanding that he might not come back.

Stalwart old Xander, he was scared but friendship pushed him on. Buffy loved him even if it wasn't the way that he had once wanted. He knew that but she'd have to tell him again after they won. Buffy grabbed his hand and squeezed for a moment.

"Come on. I'll take them." Xander volunteered as he adjusted his quiver on his shoulder.

Three people walked towards him and they left in a tight pack with Xander at the head with his crossbow ready. Buffy watched them out with a smile that felt like a frown. She knew if he was killed tonight,he wouldn't come back like Willow had. "Now, everyone just stay calm. We have to make sure that the coast is clear before everyone can go." Buffy said in a calm tone that belied her thoughts.

It felt like forever as so many adults stared at her expectantly when Xander came back with the first group. His worried features told her the news before his mouth even opened. “They're at every exit now.”

* * *  
The wind stirred the cottonwoods as Jenny and Willow had made the circle, stepping through the brush, and chanted. The oak wreaths that they had out on their heads itched but Willow forced herself to ignore it. The burning sage sachets would have been overwhelming when she was a human, but she wanted to gag with her vampiric senses now. That too she made herself ignore. All she concentrated on was the spark that she hoped still remained strong inside her. Raising her voice, she followed Jenny's lead as they dropped the other's hand and walked around their small circle of thistles and marigold petals. Flat lava rocks marked the four directions. Willow knelt when Jenny did before clasping hands again. They nodded before Willow reached for the ceremonial dagger and cut herself on the palm, sprinkling the blood around the purple candle in the middle. She raised the blade to the four directions before handing the dagger to Jenny who did the same.

Willow reached to the sky and recited the last line. Like raging river, the power rose up and she could feel it focus towards the Mayor through her connection with Jenny. He was like a blight on the mystical landscape but she didn't hesitate to open herself up, wider than she had ever tried before, to let all her energy flow towards their goal. She would see him powerless or she would die trying. Willow took another look around at the swords that she had hidden among the gravestones and grasses before she dashed to the tallest tree near the circle and climbed to the top.

Below the tree top, Jenny answered a call from her cellphone as she sat cross-legged in the circle. She raised her thumb up and nodded.

Willow didn't wait for her mentor to end the conversation before she begun to push her energy through their bond into the draining spell.

 

* * *

Lawson focused on the sound of the dripping pipes to block it all out- the torture, the betrayal, the burning herbs. Most of all, he tried to block out Drusilla's grim lullaby and the rose she rubbed over his flayed shoulders. Drip. Drip. Drip. Water and blood dripped to the sewer tunnel floor. He stood on his tip toes while his shoulders ached as the chains cut into his wrists. Rivets of blood rolled down his arms and over his bare chest to land on the porcelain doll below his feet. Drusilla had wrapped Spike's belt around Lawson's throat after he left with Angel. If he could have screamed then he would have long ago.

Her eyes had bore into his as his mental defenses had crumbled. Lost in her mystic stare, he found himself fading out of the tunnel and disconnected to the pain. He sighed while drawn to forgetfulness by her gaze.

When he could look away, he almost fudged up the steps of the waltz as vertigo over came him for a moment. He smiled sheepishly at his dance partner. The band started up a faster beat and the G.I.s swung their gals around. The room rotated in a blur of beige uniforms, colorful dresses, and shining brass instruments. Laughter and cigarette smoke lingered in the air. Lights swept over the red USO hall to glimmer off the scuffed dance floor. The woman's skin radiated milky pale in the spotlight. Lawson wanted to apologize to the pretty brunette he held and ask for her name yet no words escaped him.

His dance partner seemed to understand. “Who am I?” She cooed, coy, tilting her head to the side. Her smile widened, canines growing as she leaned closer, her curls brushing his cheek, and whispered, “I'm your consort.” Monstrous with yellow eyes and raised brows when she pulled back to grip his jaw, she laughed. “How do you like it, husband? Does this dance please you?”

He opened his mouth in a soundless scream.

Drusilla swallowed his fear in a deep kiss before invisible fingers combed through his memories. His life, human and vampire, was laid out for her perusal. She relished his pain as she searched for his secrets.

Lawson prayed, to a Jesus that he hadn't believed in for over fifty years, for the blessing of unconsciousness. Jesus ignored his silent prayers and he felt every one of Drusilla's violations. Lawson didn't have the energy to tremble when she finally pulled out of him in anger.

“Empty and bleak, you are. Always and forever. Not a single secret found your ears.” Drusilla had raised a single long fingernail. Her eyes focused on its sharp tip. “I wonder how empty the rest of you is.”

Finally, through blood loss, Lawson blacked out. He awoke, blinking slowly, to the sound of the dripping pipes and Drusilla's soft lullaby. Candles and salt had been laid out while herbs burned in tin cans around him. The bloody doll, a boy in a sailor suit, stared up at him. Forcing himself to look ahead, he tried to block out all but the dripping water yet his senses forced him to pay attention to Angel's aura.

A creaking elevator door announced Angel's strong presence while Spike's brash tone made himself known.

“Mate, methods change, you chop him into bits or go the old roman style and light him up like a candle so Dru can roast a marshmallow, but the essence is the same. Use the girl as bait. He'll try and chat her up and then we can follow her to him.” Spike's footsteps followed Angel's.

“Spike, I sent her to Buffy to protect her, I'm not going to send her into danger. All he needs to do is get her on a airplane and she's across the country.” Angel dismissed the idea with a snort. “This is why I left Lawson alive. Dru might have gotten more out of him.”

Lawson had told them all before that the three were on fool's errands. In the end, he knew nothing after he found himself a king of illusions and the pawn of masters. Only Angel's paranoia kept him from greeting the sun. The reprieve would end soon. Lawson had told them that Franz's beach house would be deserted. The Dutchman left little to chance. Lawson had learned that the hard way.

“Probably just innards.” Spike stepped in front of Angel, clearly in haste to see Drusilla. “Don't imagine that he fancies her much anymore.” His boots made a clatter as he climbed down the metal ladder to the tunnel. “Darling, how's the GI coming along?” Spike asked bringing Drusilla into his arms and snaking his hands over her the black lace on her hips.

She pouted as she threw down her rose. “He's stopped chirping.”

Angel sighed before he walked over and undid the belt around Lawson's neck. Cold indifference radiated from his brown eyes despite the soul within as he matched Lawson's gaze without wavering. “You cut off his air so he couldn't speak.”

Lawson coughed and hacked up blood on the sewer floor before he chuckled, more like a strangled huff of air. He felt a bout of hysteria coming on. There were no more reprieves. Angel would kill him again. He should have known that it would be his true sire who'd finish the deed. “You didn't even find a sock in that beach house.”

“He is more paranoid than I gave him credit for.” Angel nodded as he crossed his arms.

“My deal still stands.” Lawson coughed before pulling out his last card, his final play for life. He wouldn't even have given it a fifty-fifty chance for giving Angel what he wanted, but Lawson knew it would answer some of his own questions. He'd cash in on his highest connection. Lawson had wanted life but he would settle for a quick death.“I can make one call and get his location. You know that.”

Angel shrugged deliberately casual with an expression that made boulders seem emotional. Angelus may have been undead and unsouled, but he hadn't been as icy as his souled counterpart. “Fine. You get one phone call. We'll talk about your mission afterward.” He looked to Spike. “Grab the phone. Dru, get him some water with a few drops of blood in it.” Angel didn't say anything as a cooing Drusilla made Lawson drink. He nodded to Spike who then disappeared upstairs for a minute.

Lawson gulped down the water, hungry for the tiny traces of blood, and tried to compose his thoughts. Everything rode on his final phone call.

“Okay, you wally, give me the digits. If you start jawing off, I'm staking you before you get to the second syllable I don't like. I didn't like you on that submarine and I hate you now.” Spike warned before he began to punch in the numbers Lawson recited. A scowl bloomed on his snarling mouth while his scarred brows tightened in surly obedience. He put the phone against Lawson's ear.

A cultured French-accented voice came onto the line. “This is the office of Sebastian Morrow. His assistant speaking, how can I help you?”

He looked to Angel. That had to be some kind of sign. He had seen Franz dial the number when they were working through the Order's red tape of getting him on the council but he hadn't tried it. He had never even spoken to Sebastian himself. Lawson pulled himself up higher in his chains so he could bring air into his lungs. Beyond his control were the urgency and fear that crept into his tone. “This is Sam Lawson and I need to get a hold of Franz Pieterzoon. We have lost contact.”

“Oh, Mr. Lawson, I am to direct your call to Mr. Morrow himself.” The line went quiet before a deeper masculine voice came onto the line. Rich with experience and powerful confidence, it was a master vampire's voice right down to its indolent entitlement. The French-accented syllables rolled off an oily tongue long accustomed to obedience. “Sam Lawson, what a surprise, I expected you to be dead by now.”

“Pardon?” Lawson closed his eyes as his mind answered his own question. He had been right before. He had been a patsy from the start. The clever social climber, the independent childer, the veteran vampire, all of those illusions that he had built around himself were fully shattered. His stomach dropped as he realized how outmaneuvered he had been. Without the fog of booze, he saw it all too clear. A part of him knew it before, but maybe he had been set on self-destruction from the start.

“Franz must be distracted. No matter, Angel will most likely kill you himself soon.”

“You're double crossing me.” Without an emotional outburst, Lawson kept his tone measured as he stated the facts.

“You were always a pawn nothing more, as if a pup of so few decades could sit on our council. Naïve, really, to believe otherwise. Franz's idea, actually, to get Darla's council seat in a trick of fine print. He'll be sending someone to kill you soon, no doubt. Best of luck.” Sebastian hung up.

Spike smiled at Lawson. “Sounds like you're useless. Does it to you, Dru?”

Lawson slumped in his chains in tired resignation. He shook his head as he knew that he was toast. It was just a matter of if Angel wanted to play with him like a cat with a mouse. Or hand him off to Drusilla again. He resorted to something he promised himself that he wouldn't give Angel the satisfaction of- pleading. “You did tell me once that if you saw me again you'd kill me, Angel. Come on then chief, give me a mission.”

“No, I think I'll leave that to your consort. “ Angel handed Drusilla a stake. The expression that slithered onto his face would have chilled a psychopath. It wasn't a smirk or a snarl, though it shared some characteristics, yet it made the message clear. Angel's halo moldered black with tarnish. “Spike's right, Dru, he's useless to us.”

“Like a garden without a snake.” She concurred as she gripped the stake. “I told you once that we would be the best of friends. Whatever could be more intimate than this?” Drusilla smirked before patting Lawson on the cheek. “Dear husband,” she breathed as her stake penetrated straight into his heart. “I do believe I am a merry widow now.”

Lawson remained conscious long enough to see his feet crumble to dust on the doll then confusion and darkness reigned. He had finally gotten his mission.

* * *  
People argued in clumps as Mrs. Rosenberg and Yvette tried to keep the peace. The two women walked around the room, urging people from the exits and stopping those with cellphones from revealing their exact location to the police. While Sheila had expressed surprise to hear that they were going up against the Mayor, Yvette nodded, mouth drawn into a line, without much comment as if she had suspected a city-wide conspiracy all along.

Buffy stood away from the Sunnydale Survivors as she tried to take in the current level of demonic suckiness. She had confiscated a cellphone, her fingers clutching it tight, as she waited for the right moment to call. Crossing her arms, she frowned looking over the old drama sets and props. Some of the Easter play sets were still out. The curtains were open to reveal the auditorium seats.

“This isn't good, Buffy.” Xander leaned in to whisper to her as he walked back from helping block the door to the basement with boxes. His crossbow was unloaded while his quiver rested on his shoulder half empty. Sweat dried on his brow. He had been running. “Give me the phone. We need to call. He's coming.”

Buffy sighed as she handed it over before impulsively kissing Xander on the cheek. Sappy if sincere declarations of friendship didn't fit the night's schedule of mayhem and demonic mischief but she hoped that would be enough if worst came to worst. Though, at the moment, she wasn't just worried about the vampires. “Obvious point is obvious. Wish me luck.”

He stared with a faint smile before he saluted her with his free hand. “I always do.” Xander turned around and dialed Jenny.

She stepped closer to center stage where the people had gathered. A dozen adults, ranging from college students to retirees, awaited her new brilliant plan. Some glared, some were hopeful, others only had fear in their eyes. They all expected something. So far, she hadn't matched up to the outsized rumor that so many of them had heard. “We need to stop arguing. We are surrounded and they won't go away no matter how hard we yell at each other.”

“What do you know? You're just a teenager.” An older man, wearing in a trucker hat and mechanics jumpsuit, crossed his arms and sneered. “I reckon that those rumors were too good to be true.”

“This is kind of my job and at the end of the night, I don't care about your rumors. I care about saving your lives.” She crossed her arms as she trampled down her impatience and frustration. How many times had she saved this town? How many manicures and battle axes had she trashed saving innocents? She focused on that desire to show them what a teenager could do. It was better than freaking out. “We have people on the outside working on this too. We're not alone. Now is the time to start getting weapons and finishing the barricades.”

“What can we use as weapons?” Mrs. Rosenberg raised her hand as if in class.

“Break down the old play sets and get all the wood we can. We'll hand everyone their own stake. I'm sure you all know what to do after that.” She put on her best sassy smile and pointed to her chest with her stake. “Aim for the heart.”

“Buffy is right.” Yvette walked to Buffy and put a hand on her shoulder with a resolute smile. “Its time to stand together.”

The double doors to the auditorium flew open and knocked the benches into the seats five rows forward. When the dust settled, the Mayor stood in the doorway with his vampire minions at his back. He wore that same hooky horsey grin from his campaign posters when he led his bloodsuckers inside. Clapping lightly, he nodded to Buffy as he walked down the center aisle. “That's inspiring. You're all going to die, but it will be an inspiring massacre. I'll keep that in mind when I dedicate a statue to this tragedy in the memorial garden.”

Buffy ran to the front of the crowd to face him at the edge of the stage. “Leaving out the part where you were one who committed the massacre, of course.”

“No, I'll simply supervise. I'd rather not get my hands dirty.”

Xander told the Survivors in a low voice as he loaded an arrow into his crossbow. “Stay on the stage and keep your stakes out. Don't let them catch you alone or you're a meal. We'll get through this.”

“No, most of us will not, young man. I normally would encourage such determination in young people, but isn't it past your bed time, children?” The Mayor lifted his hand, face a polite mask of a smile, before black rage stole onto his features as he doubled over. Choking in a coughing fit, he turned red as veins pulsated in his face. He managed to sputter. “What are you doing to me? I put your watcher in the hospital.” He fell to his knees before lurching over and turning to look behind him. “Oh, the gosh darn gypsy.” Grimacing, he snarled as he stood facing Buffy with stilted posture. “My boys can pick them off one by one with or without me here. Expect me in five minutes, fellas. This won't take long.” He stormed out as a dozen vampires streamed in.

Buffy called out, jumping from the stage, stake raised towards the first two vampires. “Work together people. Don't run! Xander show them how.”

* * *

Willow kept her balance, legs spread and feet firm against the branches, as she scanned the under bush of the old cemetery. The pinch of Jenny siphoning off her magic had grown but after the cravings, it was easy enough to ignore especially now the other witch had begun to use the Mayor's energy against him. Willow let herself be far more open to the channeling than Jenny would have allowed when she was alive. Their ritual had tied them to the earth, living terra firma herself, and it make Willow feel cold and dead compared to that pulsating life. An interloper. Yet she wasn't the only one and his aura felt darker than hers. Her third eye had been awakened by Jenny's ritual and she could see the abundance of mystical energy in the old cemetery. It hovered as if fog over the weathered tombstones while hellish tendrils wound their way like serpents through the grasses towards the dark presence.

The Mayor.

She felt him before she heard him push the overgrown scrubs and saplings out of the way with his magic. Tugging them up by the roots away from their mother earth to weaken the natural power of the spot. The powers of death grew in its place. She had told Jenny that she was willing to die. Now, it was being put to the test. She couldn't worry about death, only failure. Happiness was forbidden for her but redemption wasn't. Willow looked down from the tree at Jenny, silent and cross-legged in the circle, before she shifted into game face. She readjusted her grip on the branches of the cottonwood.

“One stubborn witch left.” The Mayor called out as he burst into the clearing. Tall grasses exploded before his feet to clear the path. He plucked a dandelion off his tan lapel and stopped. “Hardly a fair fight after I picked off the Watcher. Your determination is admirable, Ms. Kalderash. A go-getter like yourself could rise high in the right circles. A little moral compromise can go a long way.”

“Thanks for the offer, but I think I'm in the right circle already.” Jenny tipped her head as she stood up and chanted a spell to fortify the protection of the rough salt circle that enclosed the ritual ring of marigold petals and lava rocks. A major disturbance to the alignment of the ritual would break the draining spell on the Mayor. All of his magic would revert back to him and out of them. Possibly taking some of their magic as well. He couldn't be allowed passed the salt circle.

Willow opened herself and her magic even wider to let herself be drawn on and be used as space for the Mayor's magic. It felt black and tainted. She'd didn't want it inside her now that she had examined him up close with her third eye but it wasn't as if she were an innocent herself. She'd only harbor it for moments before they would turn his evil back on him.

“Can't say I didn't try to find a bipartisan compromise.” The Mayor shrugged and shook his head. “A draining spell? I would expect a smarter plan from a teacher. As if you had the capabilities to hold my power.” He raised his hands as he grinned. A surge of energy pushed up against the circle but the protection didn't splinter. A frown grew in place of the grin. “Why Missy, you have been eating your Wheaties.”

Willow closed her eyes, steeled herself, then leaped from the tree unto the Mayor. As she fell, she got into a stance to take him down and readied elemental spell, simple yet effective. It was a spell that her mentor had taught her months ago. This time she wouldn't be conjuring ice. Her fangs and claws went out as the wind blew her hair back. The wreath fell from her head.

The Mayor looked up but only had a moment to gasp before she was on him.

Her feet hit his back as her hands dug into his shoulders. She struck with a stinging bite to the neck only to puncture the skin before his magic tossed her back against the aged cottonwood in a thump of chilled flesh.

The Mayor got to his feet and wiped at his bite. All traces of the mild manned small town politician were gone. His expression twisted into a black grimace. He brushed the leaves and dirt off his suit. “How did the vampire's pet get off her leash? Maybe its time to put you back into the grave. The Order of Aurelius will pose no threat to me soon enough.”

Willow could feel him divide his energy between both the siege on the salt circle and her. A slap of energy slung her cheek before a punch to the gut made her double over. She resisted the force pressed her against the tree. Willow threw his own power back at him in her defense. Smirking as she jumped to her feet to snarl out the spell to conjure fire, she ran towards the Mayor. She had another mentor with some good ideas of his own- her father. He had believed in the mundane power of a man's fists.

“Not even on your best day, witchling.” The Mayor spat as he brought roaring streams of fire from nothingness. He arched his eyebrow. The dancing flames were at his command and he wielded them with precision in a quick serpentine pattern. “Is this all you can do?”

She smiled without slowing. “Not quite.”

The Mayor sent the flames shooting towards her head in the shape of spears.

Willow ducked under them and slid as if trying to beat a baseball to a catcher's mitt before popping up to repeatedly punch the Mayor in the nose in rapid succession. Blood squirted under her fist. Her father had told her once that a good first punch to the nose could win or lose a fight. Lifting the hidden swords from the ground, she drove them towards the Mayor with the telekinesis spell. His blood called out the demon within her.

He staggered, face resembling hamburger, with a groan.

Grabbing him by the collar, she pulled him to her jaws and sunk her teeth in deep. She drank as sword after sword pierced his back.

The Mayor shuddered after each blade drove into him.

Life and magic ebbed from his aura. She cracked his ribs as she pinned him and squeezed with her small hands. After nothing but pig's blood, Willow couldn't stop herself from drinking. Weakness and vengeance made her continue to drink. His blood flowed thick and black with magics yet she couldn't pull away as his heartbeat slowed. The channel between her and Jenny surged with the Mayor's power as his defenses fell as he weakened. She pushed that power back to Jenny to be used to fuel the draining spell. A cycle of energy, it made the hair on her neck stand up. Willow had begun the fight against a powerful mage but they had reduced him to a mere human. His death rattle sounded in her ears at the same time that the last of his magic seemed to burst forth and caused Willow to drop the late Richard Wilkins to the ground.

“Willow!” Jenny gasped from the circle as she slumped forward.

Willow couldn't reply before her knees buckled and she fell, sprawled out, beside the Mayor. Her vision faded in and out as the power and blood of the dead man overwhelmed her, The earth felt cool and dry against her cheek. She felt tempted to rest for a moment but Willow pushed herself up and stumbled over the corpse of her latest victim to help Jenny.

* * *

Buffy dropped into the narrow aisle in front of two vampires. Smiling, she dropped kicked the first one into the second who pushed his buddy forward onto Buffy's stake. She curled her fingers tighter around the stake before punching the vampire in the face. Then she plunged the stake into his heart quickly. Without a single pun, Buffy backed up to the stage as she scanned the vampires stalking down the sides of the auditorium. Sinking deep into the spirit of the fight, no fear or worry broke her concentration. She was the Slayer. She would win. It would have to be that simple even if there were still ten left. “Xander, make sure that you stake any that get pass me.” Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the people huddled together on the stage and a vampire trying to sneak up on the right. She darted towards him.

He growled and lunged for her.

Buffy tripped him and dropped to her knees to stab him, underhanded, in the heart with her stake. Forgetting his face once he crumbled to nothing, she jumped up before the dust settled and back to the center aisle to met another one of them. They traded blows. Older and stronger, this vampire knew the usual tricks. He also had drowned himself with cologne. She frowned as she saw a vampire slip past her up to hop on the stage. As she did a back flip, kicking her feet into the vampire's chin, she saw Xander tussle with one before staking it. “Did you bathe in Old Spice tonight?” She asked as she spun around. The stench had cut through her battle groove.

“Hey, I have on-!”

Buffy didn't let the vampire finish his sentence before she dusted him. His scent lingered longer than he did. Then she went after the next one as he climbed over the auditorium seats to escape her. She grabbed him by the scruff of his neck to tug him on her stake. Looking over to the open doors, she smiled as tears came to her eyes before rushing to her left to confront another foe.

Giles, shaky and pale, stood at the door with a crossbow in his hands and a bathrobe on. Cordelia brandished a small ax at his side. He aimed and took out a vampire running down the center aisle before reloading.

“Doesn't look good for your side, buddy.” Buffy grinned as she high kicked a vampire in the face and knocked his baseball cap off.

The vampire dodged her next blow and swung himself up and over onto the stage.

He was met by Xander's crossbow and Mrs. Rosenberg holding a jagged wood stake broken off of an old Easter set.

Mrs, Rosenberg raised her makeshift stake, painted egg on one end, before jamming it through the vampire's chest.

Giles had taken another one down so only four remained of the original dozen vampires. As Buffy yelled out, she pointed towards the vampires that shifted face in the middle of the auditorium.“We have only four left people. Lets take them down!”

The Sunnydale Survivors rushed from the stage behind Buffy and Xander.

Buffy barreled through the vampires, knocking them aside into the seats, before leaping up to tackle one that tried to run back at Giles. Landing on its back, she staked it before hitting the ground in a cloud of dust and looking back at the last three vampires getting staked as the support group members teamed up to take them out. She rose to her feet with a cough before striding to Giles and wrapping him up in a Slayer-sized hug. As she looked over his shoulder, she saw Willow and Jenny leaning on each other as they walked towards the auditorium.

Willow gave a thumbs up to Buffy before fading into the night.

Buffy felt herself relax.

It was finally over.

* * *

After she had said goodnight to Yvette and channel surfed for an hour, Sheila settled on an evening talk show, sitting in sweatpants and a t-shirt on the living room couch of her friend's ranch house. Her analytical mind still tried to process what had happened tonight. Wizards could be Mayors and cheerleaders could fight vampires. How had that become her life? She had been asking herself that more and more, then again how had any of it -Willow and Ira's deaths – happened? She had wanted to rejoice in Wilkin's defeat yet she still had one task ahead of her. One last vampire that would be far hard to stake than the ones in the auditorium. The one that she had once called her daughter. Like a wound that never healed, she still felt Willow's death as if it had only just happened. She'd feel that pain all over again before the deed was done. A part of her knew that it would never heal. It was a bitter cruel world and for the first time, Sheila Sullivan Rosenberg wanted to let herself wallow in a television consumerist stupor. Jay Leno's words escaped her even when she tried to make her mind go blank and focus on his banal comedic monologue.

Her cellphone rang.

Sheila checked the clock on the wall as she leaned over to the coffee table and reached into her purse to pull the device out. She flipped it open, not recognizing the phone number, and answered. “Hello?”

“Sheila Rosenberg, I never introduced myself but you may remember me. I killed your daughter.” An unforgettable voice, European accented and glacially impersonal, said over the line.

“What do you want, you son of a bitch? To gloat about what you did?” Her voice was low and sharp as her eyes darted around. Goosebumps rose. Fear, hate, and worry battled for control of her mind while her heartbeat sped up. She broke out into sweat even while she clung to composure. She had wondered what she would say to him if she ever saw him again. “Do you even realize what you did to my family? What you deprived the world of?”

“Indeed, I do, Sheila.” He paused before continuing in a cool professional tone. “Walk outside and step into the van and you will not be harmed. Stay inside and my men will burn down your friend's house.” His voice grew smug. “Yvette Stevenson is a pillar of the human community on the hellmouth, it would be a shame to lose her for no reason after such a remarkable defeat of Richard Wilkins.”

“Why?” She asked sharply as she got up to peer though the front window. Her eyes narrowed when she saw a van idling on the curb. “Do you want to finish off the whole family?”

He evaded the question. “You will be unharmed and released soon enough, rest assured. However, my offer has a time limit of five minutes.”

Sheila saw the men stalk out of the van. One carried gas cans in his hands. She bit her lip and looked up again to where Yvette slept unbeknownst to the danger. Writing a vague note, she warned her friend that she might not come back. Maybe it could only end this way. “Fine. I'll go with them if you leave my friend alone.” She put on her shoes before she opened up the door, locked the knob, then closed it.

The vampires took her by the arms without a word.

Sheila knew them for what they were now.

* * *

The library was a silent shell of itself without the usual hum of activity. Willow ran her fingers over the long study table and spun the globe. She glanced up to where the hellmouth lingered under the reference books. Once this had been her refuge. What was it now that she was undead? It had been a second home to her for so long yet she found herself feeling like a guest. Alone, the thrill of victory had worn off. Most of the Scoobies had gone home but Giles took Jenny to get checked out at the hospital. She didn't know whether it would be better to leave a note before heading back to LA or wait for the watcher's return.

The phone rang in the library office. On instinct, Willow answered, wondering if it was Angel. She knew it couldn't be a student at this hour. “Sunnydale High Library.”

“Hello, Willow.”

Two words, simple and brief, had the power to make her sit down as she sucked in a unnecessary breath. In those two words, she knew she had been found. She closed her eyes . Even through the soul, her demon had yearned to hear his the timbre of his voice again. Franz had sired her, his blood called to hers and Willow had figured that he would find her sooner or later. His timely call hadn't shocked her. He was a consummate professional after all. Except it had never quite felt like business between them. “Franz.”

He sighed and his voice came close to breaking. “Return to me. Curses can be broken, Willow.”

It would be simple to go back to him. He'd take away the pain and restore the serenity of soullessness. Their lives together in DC would be an undead dream of power and ancient blood. The guilt would evaporate, but that would be giving in. Willow had already killed two people, she didn't want to kill anymore. “There is too much blood on my hands. I don't want to hurt anyone.”

“Let us speak. If it eases the decision , I will note that I have your mother in my custody. However, I would rather not cause you, or your loved ones, harm. ” No malicious glee lit up his tone or hardened threat. His resigned tone betrayed only sadness. He sounded tired.

“Please don't hurt her.” A tear escaped her tightly closed eyes. Her mother had already been through so much. Willow tried her best to protect her mother but another demon had carried her off before the Mayor's body had even chilled. Despite the magical power she had absorbed, she felt weak before Franz. She believed him when he told her that he didn't want to hurt her. Franz killed her to raise her up, in his mind, to a higher being. Perhaps even save her from herself in the kamikaze quest against the Mayor. None of it made human sense, but Willow didn't know how much of that she had left.

“I shall not. Arrive at the caves where I inducted you into the order and she will be released immediately. I will come as unarmed as a lamb, you may come as a lion.” Franz paused. “I missed you.” He hung up.

Willow sobbed, crossing an arm around her chest while still clutching the corded desk phone, and hiding her eyes with the other hand. Overwhelmed, she thought of her mother and her friends and how this would mean leaving them again. Her fragile soul hung in danger's grasp because Franz had the means to break the curse with Wolfram & Hart at hand. So much had happened that she wanted to scream and throw a tantrum as she ranted against the injustice instead she wiped her cheeks. She had to stay calm because a life was in the balance. It was biggest lesson that a Scooby learned. Willow needed a plan. She knew that Franz wouldn't leave without her so she'd have to find a way to escape him before he got her to an airport or some witches.

Before writing a quick note to her friends, she called Angel but only got the answering machine. She left a message before going to Giles' desk. After grabbing a slim bottle of holy water and sage, she left the school and hopped into the De Soto, hoping the ancient vehicle was up to the task.

* * *

Angel replayed the new message with growing worry.

Willow had been dead serious about meeting Franz from the beginning of the message. “I almost died tonight to save my mother, Angel. I can't give up now,” before describing the caves at their beach rendezvous. The end of her message replayed a dire warning that he knew he would ignore. “Don't come after me unless you prepare yourself. Wolfram & Hart and the Order of Aurelius want you to suffer. Please understand.” The message ended in the click of a disconnected phone call and cassette static.

Angel almost got to the phone in time but it had already gone to the machine by the time he had reached the foot of the stairs. Returning home from hitting the demon haunts with Spike and Drusilla, he had more information on Sebastian Morrow yet not Franz. He knew he would spend the rest of the night researching on the internet. That is until Willow had given him the best clue of all.

Spike clapped him on the back as he exhaled tobacco smoke. Shadows fell over his grin in the gloomy kitchen. “I told you that he'd make time with her.”

“Let's go.”

***

Willow drove off the highway onto the beach. If she were human, this would have been the point when she'd have hyperventilated. Deep in her bones, she knew that she'd have to face Franz again. He might have wanted revenge on Angel at first, but he certainly did seem to want something from her now. Willow couldn't decide if she blamed Angelus or herself more. She killed the engine, leaving the keys in the De Soto's ignition, before rushing from the car.

Franz held her mother in a loose grip with one hand on her wrists and another around her throat. Moonlit waves broke behind them on a pebbled and winding coast. The surf echoed in the hollow of the sea caves nearby. Tilting his head, he looked up and a small smile curled at his mouth when he spotted her.

Willow dropped her holy water and sage into the sand as she walked across the beach to where Franz stood. She stepped out of her flip flops without caring. A simple spell would bring them all back to her. She needed to set the right scene to get her mother out of there. He had to think that she'd go with him. “I'm here. Please let her go.”

He nodded, gray eyes targeted on Willow, before releasing her mother. His button down shirt hung loose over his dark slacks while his hair grew mussed by the wind. The perfect put-together outfits that they had left the beach house in yesterday hadn't survived the night. They both stood in designer disarray. His stoic expression slipped even if his tone remained level. “Run, Sheila, and never look back.”

“Willow!”

“Mom, just run! Take the car and drive away for your own good. Forget this.” Willow shook her head, biting her lip, while a single track of tears streaked down her cheek. She needed her mother to get to safety so she could think again. Worry invaded her mind and fear froze it just when she needed to plan the most. “Forget me.”

Her mother nodded and scurried towards the highway.

Franz put his hands on her side before raising her chin. The look on his face softened. “You didn't bring a stake.”

Willow shook her head and closed her eyes as his familiar blood aura called out to her. Even with her soul, her sire's presence felt soothing. It would be easy to give in and let him turn her into the bride of Dracula. All that pain and guilt would be gone. She'd have a new family to replace the one that she had lost. While Franz had always been a puzzle to her for his tenderness coupled with the hidden layer of meaning in his every word and even if she didn't know much about his past, she knew he cared for her. Franz would give her a new life. To the demon within, the idea had appeal. She opened her eyes. “I just wanted my mom to be safe.”

“Why did you run away?” He sounded hurt. His thumb ran along her jawline.

She stalled, listening for the starting of a car engine, waiting for her mother to leave. “The guilt was too much when they gave me back my soul.” Willow clutched her chest. Flashing back to her “surprise”, the bound man that Franz had captured, she thought of how she drained him dry before dropping him like an empty soda can. Then the woman that she had sipped on after Franz had finished her. They had left her near a sedan and a grease spot in a parking garage.“I remembered what I had done.”

Franz pulled her into his arms and kissed her temple. “I can fix you. This is only temporary, Willow.”

“I don't want to kill any one.” Tears were in her eyes. She wondered if he had his shaman begin the de-souling ritual before Franz had even called her. Willow still hadn't heard her mother start up the De Soto, its hacking sputter so distinctive than the cars occasionally driving past on the highway, and her ideas seemed more and more futile.

“Don't trust in souls. Trust in me.” Franz kissed her under each eye before embracing her, his chin resting on her head. His hands rubbed her back. “Let me make it right.”

The sound of a helicopter grew in the distance and soon overpowered the crashing of the waves. Wind whipped up to tug at their clothing and hair. A roaring vehicle sped closer.

“I can't. I'm sorry.” She cried into his shirt as a sinking feeling came over her.

“I know. Its why I called in the helicopter.” Franz clutched her closer. “I knew you'd call Angel.”

A convertible drove towards them, headlights flooding the beach as if in reply.

“You might have not given my mother up.” Willow squeezed his arm. Call her Stockholm Suzy, but a part of her didn't want him to die. “Get in your chopper and go to DC. Angel will kill you if he can. Go, please!”

“No.” Franz smiled as he turned her in his embrace before kissing her deeply.

Spike and Angel got out of the car. “Willow, run.” Angel called out before he charged towards Franz along side his childe.

Willow stopped Angel by grabbing his arm. “Take my mother out of here, please.”

“Don't try to take her yourself. Let her flee on her own.” Angel shrugged out of her grip as his eyes narrowed when Spike leaped into the fray with a hiss at Franz. The two vampires met in a furious rumble of fists and fangs. He wanted to explain everything but Franz could fly off in that helicopter at any moment.

“Come on, Angel.” Willow shook her head and put her hand to his cheek. “Let us all just go. This doesn't need to happen.”

Angel ignored her words even as he leaned into her touch. “Stay out of the action unless you're ready to fight him. Neither of you will be safe if Franz doesn't die on this beach.” He pulled away after hugging her. “We won't have this chance again”

Willow looked behind at Franz, guilty despite her better judgment for betraying him, before running to the edge of the highway. Oncoming cars blocked her escape across it. A stomach churning sensation turned her immortal belly and she sunk to her knees. Reverse deja vu vibrated through her senses. Her demon howled within as its shackles loosened. Franz had thought of everything after all. His mages had begun to free her demon already. She jumped as she saw her mother come up to her. Willow's soul fought for control of its body. “Mom, you have to get out of here!”

“I couldn't until I saw you. I miss you so much, Willow.” Sheila Rosenberg teared up as she held up a jagged piece of driftwood. Red-rimmed eyes closed for a moment, a harsh breath inhaled, before she readied herself to strike.

“I miss you and Dad too.” Willow looked at the stake, knew what her mother planned on doing, and needed her to do it quicker. Her control started to slip. If her demon got free-reign, it would kill her mother first, with all the hunger of a caged beast. Its sense of self-preservation overrode any traces of familial love. Willow would never wash her mother's blood of her hands if she failed or if her mother hesitated. “I'm sorry that you both went through so much pain.”

“You brought us joy, honey, the world brought us pain.” Her mother sobbed and put her chained glasses on with a single shaking hand. “Now close your eyes.”

“Do it, Mom.” Willow trembled from her inner fight as her soul faded faster and faster. The demon sought total domination in it's quest. Her resistance made it exert it's influence in a raging pressure over her body. Outside entities fueled and strengthened it. The trembles spread to her knees; they threatened to buckle. Willow's soul threw the last of her will against her demon's onslaught. “Pl-”

 

Franz bellowed as he waded in the shallows of the ocean to the beach. “Stop!”

Angel looked behind him to see Willow nod as her mother raised a stake. Submerged to the waist in the surf, his legs felt sluggish from shock as they moved by instinct towards Willow. His frozen mind seemed stuck on the memory of Willow, barefoot and sipping blood, in his kitchen. Soulful and guilty, she still had that Scooby Gang gung-ho attitude in the fight against evil. She had argued that she could help save her friends and she had been right. Redemption had become her new path. Now that path would be cut short.

A dark circle came to resolution in an ending where the innocent suffered most. In piercing her daughter's heart, Sheila finished the ugly deed, quick and sure, before Willow had spoken her last word. The gusts of the helicopter blades blew Willow's ashes into all directions to fade into the sand of the beach. In a blink of an eye, she might have never been there at all.

A rope ladder was thrown down and Franz reached out, limp and pale, to it. Grief shone in his pale eyes even as his expression hardened around the mouth. As he rose, he didn't look down, only ahead, despite Spike making a jump for him in the water.

Angel looked to Spike before running to Sheila. Salt water dripped off him. Willow's death haunted him, repeating in his mind, and he had to know why. That had been Willow's second chance. He had known of Sheila's intentions but he had gravely underestimated her determination. He should have forced them into separate cars and made them leave himself. Another failure that rested on his shoulders. Gaping at her, he struggled to control himself. The questions bottled up before he spit out an omitted truth. “That was your daughter. You must have sensed it. She had a soul, Sheila!”

“Despite my wishes.” Sheila glared at him, mouth drawn thin, and turned on her heel to walk away. “We won't see each other again.”

Grimacing, Angel shook his head. He clenched his fists as he relied on every iota of self-control he possessed. His eyes darted to Spike's when the vampire put his hand on Angel's shoulder, silently gesturing towards the helicopter that flew away, as a wordless offer of blood vengeance lingered in his gaze. It made him remember that he had Spike's reigns at the moment which meant that a misunderstanding could turn deadly. He needed to stay calm. Angel pushed the anger out of his tone to leave only a restrained bitterness behind. “She was harmless now. What exactly were you proving by staking her?”

“That I had finally acted like her mother.”

 

* * *  
One year and eight months later

She pressed herself up against the metal box, panting, eyes leaked from the bright light streaming through the bars. Everything ached, her body felt sluggish while her mind's synapses were seared by the grandmother of all migraines. No thoughts, memories, or questions could break through the firewall of pain. Shaking, she wrapped her arms around her bare legs. A chill rose goosebumps on her naked flesh. She forced her eyes open and peered out of the box.

Another woman's dark gaze stared back at her. Red lips curved into a smile. “Don't be afraid. Willow.”

Awareness rolled in like a tide of broken glass. She couldn't remember her name or where she was but she knew it wasn't home. A single word filtered through the confusion- kidnapped.


End file.
